


A Mother for Tommy and Lilly

by ALWrite



Series: Outlaw [3]
Category: 3:10 to Yuma (2007)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Courtship, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family, Father-Daughter Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Minor Character Death, Motherhood, Post-Canon, Prostitution, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-17 06:31:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 56,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14827155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALWrite/pseuds/ALWrite
Summary: Ben Warner needs a wife. But which woman is the right one - the one who takes care of his children, or the one who takes care of his private needs?





	1. Family life

**Author's Note:**

> Please be aware that the stories in the series "Outlaw" are not in chronological, but in "dramatic" order, sometimes jumping years ahead and sometimes relying on revealed information of earlier stories.
> 
> "A mother for Tommy and Lilly" (Part 3 of the series) goes back back to the times after Lilly was born and tells of the attempts by Rachel, Ben, Tommy, and the toddler-girl Lilly to grow into a family.
> 
> If you have not read the previous stories, I recommend to start with Part 1: "Better Luck Next Time"

"Tommy... when you have to rub your dick then don't do it where she can see it, is all I am saying."

Ben continued to brush his horse as if nothing had happened but inwardly he was smiling. _Some things simply never changed. Women were always after you to 'behave properly', and for a young man to jerk off simply wasn't anything that women ever seemed to find acceptable..._

"But _where_ can I go?" Tommy wailed. He was thirteen now, and in a more or less constant need to evade his mother for his more private endeavours.

"O come on, Tommy, there must be many spots on the ranch where she never goes. What about the hayloft? What about the stables?"

"That's where the ranch hands are," Tommy chirped in.

"Well... what about the chicken coop?"

"That's where I _was_ when she caught me!" Tommy yelled.

Ben laughed out loud at the embarrassed but also defiant look of his son. _Yes, he had definitely come to think of Tommy as his son._ He shot an inquiring look at him.

"Well... I was supposed to get her some eggs. Guess, I took too long with the task."

Ben laughed again.

"Don't laugh, Dad!"

Ben complied. It wasn't easy, though. Chuckling to himself he continued brushing.

"Where did _you_ do it when you were my age?"

Ben smirked. He knew what Tommy was doing. He recognized a young stallion trying to take on an older one. It didn't even have to be that obvious. But it would take a lot more than such a remark from Tommy to provoke him.

"Everywhere I could – what do you think?" He turned to look at his son and they both burst into laughter. Ben threw the brush to Tommy.

"Here. Finish this for me, will you? I'll get some oats for him."

Good-naturedly Tommy threw back the brush to Ben.

"I'll get them for you. The horse likes you better'n me."

Tommy strolled over to the stable, and Ben couldn't help but marvel at the easy friendship he had acquired with the boy. Tommy came back with a tin bowl full of oats and fed them to the horse while Ben finished brushing down his black glossy coat. Ribbon was seventeen now, old for a horse that had had to live rough for quite a number of years, but he was still in good shape and Ben rode him regularly. Their bond had always been special, and even now after all these years the horse never failed to answer to his whistle.

 

 

When Ben entered the house for dinner his four-year-old daughter Lilly hurled herself at him. "Daddy!"

"Hello, Little Flower. How is my girl?" She hugged him while he held her, her nose buried in his neck, his lips kissing her hair. Neither of them noticed Rachel's frown. She had been trying to keep Lilly clean the whole day, instructing her to be careful while wearing her dress, and not to spoil it. Lilly had been confined to the house in order to practise 'being a girl' as Rachel put it, but one contact with her father's dusty hands and clothes had efficiently ruined the picture.

Ben put Lilly in her high chair at the dinner table. John had made it nearly two years ago when Lilly had been two and had demanded to sit at the table like the grown-ups.

That evening Lilly wasn't keen on eating her soup and spilled most of what she spooned up - although she knew how to handle a spoon well enough. Time and again she put the spoon down, and Rachel would put it back into her hands.

"Lilly – eat," Rachel said again and again, but Lilly took Ben's presence as an opportunity not to obey her mother. She had been under Rachel's strict surveillance all day, and she was tired of it.

Ben looked at his daughter. Her set face and the look which she fixed upon Rachel spoke volumes: the two had been fighting again.

"Lilly..."

Her father's voice always attracted her attention. Lilly looked at him, and Ben felt as though he was looking into a mirror: those blue-green eyes with the long, softly-curved eyelashes were an exact copy of his.

A simple nod in the direction of her spoon and her food sufficed, and Lilly started eating again... only to put the spoon down a minute later. She was only four, and her attention span was still very short. _As short as the fuse on a dynamite stick_ , Ben sometimes thought. Her temper tantrums were famous. Well, that was what Rachel called them, anyway.

Ben saw Rachel take a deep breath and turn to Lilly. She was ready to fight it out, but Ben wasn't in the mood for one of their endless, fruitless fights, and he forestalled her.

"Do you want to eat with me, Little Flower?" he asked Lilly instead.

"Yes!"

"All right – come here." He got up and helped Lilly crawl out of her high-chair. She walked over to her father’s chair, and then stopped in front of it waiting for him. Ben grabbed a cushion from one of the comfortable armchairs near the fireplace and sat down. Then he put the cushion on his lap and hauled Lilly on top of it. It was her favourite seat, her face close to the bowl, her father's right arm around her waist holding her tight, and his broad chest supporting her back and making her feel safe.

With the world all right again, her little stomach unclamped and she felt hungry. Ben handed her his spoon, and Lilly began to spoon soup out of her father's bowl while he reached over the table to pick up Lilly's spoon. They both spooned soup out of Ben's bowl staunchly ignoring Rachel's indignant look. Both of them were content with their arrangement.

"Dad?" Tommy spoke up.

"Hmmm?"

"I outwitted Miss Hargrove in arithmetic today."

Ben chuckled. "What did you do?"

"Well... she tried to teach us about calculating how much land you've got when you've got so-and-so many yards, and miles etc. And then she got it all mixed up. And I told her how to do it right."

"Tommy," Rachel's voice indicated her dissent, "you shouldn't talk back to your teacher."

"But, Mum..." Tommy started.

"Your mother is right, Tommy. It's unwise," Ben said.

Both Rachel and Tommy looked at him somewhat astonished.

"You never know when you need her good will for something," Ben explained.

"You want her to teach me something that's wrong?" Tommy asked provocatively.

"You already know it's wrong, Tommy, so what's the problem? You know somethin' better'n your teacher, best way is to keep your mouth shut."

"But what about the other children who don't know?"

"They'll find out one day."

Tommy helped himself to another bowl of soup. "Dad, when will the next coach arrive?"

"Couple of days, Tommy. Can't wait for that book, eh?"

Tommy smirked. "I'm sure Miss Hargrove has never heard of it."

"You like to provoke her." Ben stated a fact.

"I like her," Tommy objected, then paused. "Well..." he corrected himself, "I like _looking_ at her."

He smirked. Ben returned Tommy's smirk. Miss Hargrove was bosomy. Rachel caught their looks and decided to end this conversation.

"It is late," she said with a look at Ben.

"Come on, Little Flower," Ben said to Lilly and hauled her off his lap. "Time to go to bed."

Lilly trotted over to her mother to go through the inevitable ritual of getting dressed in a nightgown and brushing her hair for the night.

 

Ten minutes later Ben and Lilly were lying in Ben's bed, and Ben was reading from the book of fairy tales that had fascinated Tommy five years ago. But tonight the story of Hansel and Gretel wasn't enough to make Lilly go to sleep. She sensed that her father was impatient and not fully concentrating on her – and so Lilly couldn't relax. Ben had to read on and on. Finally, after three stories, Lilly lay asleep beside him.

As softly as possible Ben got up and carefully lifted Lilly in his arms. Subconsciously she snuggled into his embrace, and he held her tight while carrying her over to the bedroom where she and Rachel slept. He placed her in her little bed, another gift from John.

Standing over his sleeping girl for a minute, Ben mused that ever since Lilly had been a baby she had fallen asleep in _his_ bed, not her own or Rachel's. Then he returned to his own bedroom to wash and change into fresh clothes for his trip into town...

 

When he came down to leave Rachel was sitting at the table sewing. There was a huge stack of Tommy's clothes beside her.

"She's asleep."

Rachel just nodded but didn't take her eyes off her work. Ben hesitated, a question on his lips. It had been a year or even more since he had last asked that particular question.

"Rachel..."

She frowned when she looked up at him: he had disturbed her concentration.

"I don't need to go, you know,..." he said tentatively.

Her look changed to one of resolution. Ben nodded and backed off. _What was he thinking? That she would ever welcome him into her bed again? How often had he asked that question and always gotten a rebuke? Why had he asked her again tonight? Wasn't he done with this kind of humiliation?_

Briskly he walked over to the door, took his holster, gun and hat off the nail there and left without another word.

 

 

It took him half the way into town to get a grip on his whirling thoughts and the feeling of rejection.

_How happy he had been when Rachel had told him about her pregnancy. With Frank Dalton dead and Rachel free of pursuit by a cruel man, Ben had believed he'd be able to get something he had never considered having before, a family. But Rachel hadn't been happy about her pregnancy. She had suffered a lot from morning sickness, had developed a strong sensitivity to food smells, and on top of this a feeling of aversion against her own body and the child it bore._

_She wouldn't let Ben touch or help her in any way. She had staunchly refused his help in the kitchen when too sick to cook, had fought him whenever he tried to push her into an armchair to convince her she needed some rest, and when he had turned to her at night and so much as held her, she had scrambled out of bed and left the room. Again and again..._

_Sex had been out of the question. Early on she had refused his touch on the grounds that it might harm the unborn child. Naturally, Ben hadn't wanted anything to happen to his child. He knew that horses didn't mate either when the mare was carrying a foal. There was no point in this. Perhaps this was because it was dangerous for the foal, he reasoned. And so it would be dangerous for a human child, too, wouldn't it? And so, consequently, he had curbed his appetite..._

_Months after Lilly's birth when he had approached her again, Rachel had refused him on the grounds that if she became pregnant again her milk might dry up, and Ben had had no choice but to accept this explanation, secretly envying his stallions who had more than one mare to slake their lust on._

_A year went by and Rachel didn't relent. He had finally confronted her and told her he was going into town to see a whore. When she answered his provocative news with a smile it had felt like a bucketful of cold water being thrown in his face, and he had finally understood that she was not only okay with this but that she welcomed it and didn't want him back in her bed. That night was the first night ever Ben Wade used a whore for his own pleasure without giving anything back._

_A week later he had gone to the saloon again. And the following week again. Rachel had never given any sign that his visits to the saloon girls disturbed her. In fact, she had seemed happy about it. And so it had become a habit._

_What Ben never knew was that Rachel had taken his first trip into town to visit a whore as an omen. She had been praying every night that his interest in her would cease, and his action had been the answer to her prayers: from now on he would intrude upon another woman, not her. Life was finally getting better._

 

 

 

 


	2. Rachel and Lilly

When Ben arrived in the saloon that night it was packed. A bunch of eight cowboys had arrived. From what he overheard them telling the saloon girls they were twelve altogether, driving a huge herd of cattle north. They were camping a couple of miles outside of Indian Springs, and whoever wasn't needed with the cattle had gone into town for a night of drinking and whoring.

Ben's eyes skimmed over them before he moved to the bar. _No, there were no known faces among them._ Checking a crowd for familiar faces had become a habit of Ben's ever since he had been on the run at fifteen, a habit he knew he would never be able to shed. There was always a possibility that someone might recognize him. If he was able to spot them first, at least he had the advantage. But it was also possible that someone knew him, knew his looks without Ben ever having set eyes on them. The outlaw Ben Wade, although gone for almost nine years now, would never be completely safe from discovery.

In moments like this one Ben wondered how Jennifer was. _Had she been able to build up the life she wanted? And even if she had succeeded, was she, too, still afraid that someone might recognize her?_

 _No point mulling over it. Life was what it was._ And Ben knew that life was never safe.

 

His eyes roamed over the girls. Sandy wasn't in. Juliet came up to the bar.

"Three whiskies."

Ben watched her as she served the whiskies to three cowboys, then returned to the bar to ask for two more.

"Where is Sandy tonight, Julie?" Ben asked.

Juliet waved her head towards the stairs. "She has a customer upstairs. One of them cowboys." Juliet hesitated before she added, "She waited for you but he kept asking her, and you weren't here. You're late tonight."

Ben nodded and downed his whisky. He didn't feel like waiting for Sandy. "What about you, girl? You free tonight?"

Juliet looked at him. "You mean the whole night?"

Ben gave her an innocent look. "I always stay for the night."

 

It was true, Juliet thought. Most of the time Ben Warner chose Sandy. It made the other girls jealous of her, and not only because of the steady income his visits provided. It was well known that Ben was a generous and skilled lover who made sure the girl had a good time, too.

Juliet considered Ben's offer, a full night's pay with nothing more to do than one poke, perhaps a second one in the morning before he'd be gone could only be outdone by having at least three different customers in one night. But with eight or nine randy cowboys around that night, she might make a better cut if she stuck with them.

She was aware of his scrutinizing look fixed on her and blushed. She actually liked Ben Warner. Unfortunately, most of the time he chose Sandy, and sometimes Lydia. It was sheer luck that neither of them were free tonight and that he had seen her first.

His blue-green eyes were still on her, calm and measured. She wondered what he thought of her. Tentatively, she tried a smile, but it didn't come out as seductively and self-assuredly as she wished. Instead it was shy and almost apologetic.

She hesitated to pick up the tray. Ben nodded at it. "You bring 'em their drinks, then join me." Delivered in that soft honey voice of his it sounded more like a request than the order it actually was.

A minute later Juliet and Ben went up the stairs into her room.

 

 

"You look almost scared, girl," Ben said. "What is it?"

Juliet had taken off her dress, petticoats and shoes, but then she had stopped, unsure what he wanted her to do. Her liking him didn't help at all. In fact, it made her shy, made her drop any pretense and artifice. She had serviced him only two times since he had started frequenting the saloon girls, and he had been courteous and soft with her. She knew from the other girls that he was kind to them, too. Ben Warner never wanted anything out of the ordinary, never played rough, was always considerate of their needs.

During the last three years he had become a constant in the saloon girls' life. Juliet wondered what made him come down and pay for their services when he had a young woman on his ranch. Most of their married customers wanted specific services rendered, so you could tell their secret wishes or what their wives refused to do for them. But the two nights that Ben Warner had spent in Juliet’s bed had been nights of routine love-making. Juliet had heard from the other girls that with Ben Warner sometimes it was enough just to spend the night cuddled up beside him. It really made you think...

"What is it?"

He approached her and his hands on her cheeks made her look up into his face. Its expression was one of worry. _Was he worried about her?_

"You having second thoughts about this, girl?" he asked her. "Wanna go down and make your money with them cowboys?"

But Juliet shook her head. _No. Not if she could have a man like him._ "What would you like me to do for you, Mr. Warner, sir?"

Ben looked at her. She sounded like a small girl, her voice devoid of any implied lechery, her arms hanging at her sides, not trying to entice him with suggestive touches. His thumbs stroked her cheeks. _'For him'. Yes, she was there for him and he could name his wish. It was what his money bought. It was what this was all about, wasn't it? – So, what did he want from her?_

He looked into her eyes, the contours of which were painted black. It gave her a slightly aggressive look, made her look older. Her lips were closed. Ben smiled at her, and his hands moved into her hair, feeling for the pins that held her hair up and taking them out, one by one.

When Juliet realized what he was doing she raised her hands to help him, but he stopped her and shook his head. "No. Let me do it." His voice was as soft as a feather. His hands were on her shoulders, turning her around, so it was easier for him to reach her hair. He felt for the pins, pulled them out one by one and freed her hair. After that he opened the laces on her bodice, planting soft kisses on her neck and shoulder. When the bodice was open he dropped it. His right hand snaked around to cup her breast, and his left hand travelled along her stomach and into her bloomers until it stopped at her mound.

When she felt his soft touch Juliet relaxed, spread her legs a little to give him access and leaned back into his body. Ben took it as a cue, and his hand moved further down teasing her little nub while his other hand kneaded her breasts.

She whimpered in his arms, and he became more daring, his fingers more urgent. He kissed her neck and bit her slightly and was rewarded with a sudden wetness on his fingers.

She had taken her shoes off before, but she still wore her stockings, and so she didn't have a firm stand on the floor. But Ben's body behind her was solid, and his arms and hands didn't only tease and pleasure her, they held her as well.

When she came she gave a sigh, and her knees gave way. Ben's arms clasped shut around her, his mouth was on her neck sucking in her soft skin, and he simply moved them both the few steps towards her bed and sunk down on it with her still in his arms.

It took her only a minute to come down from her high, and she turned in his arms to hug him whispering, "Let me do something for you."

 

 

 

The next morning when he was riding back to the ranch Ben met Tommy, who was riding to school.

"Everything all right?" Ben asked him, not really expecting a 'No'. But Tommy hesitated. Ben stopped his horse and fixed him with a stare that demanded an answer.

"Lilly has thrown another tantrum."

Ben sighed. "What was it this time?"

"She was running off to the river and got wet and muddy. When I left Mum was dragging her back into the house saying something about having to get dressed again, and Lilly was screaming her head off."

Tommy rode on to school while Ben rode on home, the good mood Juliet had put him into last night completely gone.

 

 

Rachel had dressed Lilly in her best dress and had made her stay and play beside her in the kitchen. Lilly was playing with wooden bricks, trying to build a house or a fence or a tower like her father had done for her many times. But, tenacious though she was, it didn't work out. Her little hands weren't dexterous enough and she didn't understand about equilibrium yet. The tower collapsed, the house toppled over, and the fence was so patchy and broken, she imagined her collection of toy horses to be breaking out and running off any minute...

She got bored and gave up trying. Her father would have helped her, would have enticed her to try again, but her mother was cutting up vegetables and stirring them into the stew she was preparing. She didn't as much as look in her direction.

Lilly needed some attention.

 

Rachel was so deeply in thought, she didn't even realize that Lilly had walked over to her and was tugging at her skirt.

_Five years already. She had been in this house for five years! She had never planned on staying so long._

Rachel shook her head.

_It was her own fault. She never should have let him touch her. Getting pregnant had robbed her of any chance to leave this ranch soon – either openly or by running away._

She laughed mirthlessly.

_Why would she think she could run away from BEN WADE! She had managed to escape Frank Dalton, but Ben Wade was another matter. He was much more intelligent than Frank Dalton had ever been. And on top of this, everybody in town would help him find her._

Rachel groaned aloud and threw the carrots she had chopped up into the stew, unaware of the fact that Lilly hung at her skirt and that her steps to the stove had almost knocked her over.

_No, she would have to sit tight just like she had sat tight during those last five years. To be honest, apart from the pregnancy and the birth, those five years hadn't been too bad._

_The hardest part had been to keep... that man... away after Lilly had been born. In the beginning she had been safe because Lilly was so small and she needed to feed her so often. And once she had hit upon the idea that if she did have sex the milk would dry up, she had been safe for a long time._

_By the time Lilly had started to walk... that man... had already gone down to the whores in town. What a relief that had been! Oh, of course, lewd man that he was, he had tried to coax her back into his bed again and again, but she had stood firm. No more pregnancies, no more children that needed constant attention... no. No more!_

Rachel heaved a sigh. Then she picked up the first potato from the bowl and started to peel it.

 _For once in her life she had made a man do what_ she _wanted: back off! And he had gone back to his whores. To impregnate them. Which was all right. After all, everyone knew that whores were barren. That's why they were whores in the first place, right?_

Lilly tugged at her skirt again.

"Let me go!" Rachel was in no mood to interrupt her thoughts.

_She wasn't unhappy with her life, not at the moment. She had a man who was providing for her and the two kids, and she knew how to keep him at bay. Ben's money gave Tommy a good education, and all she wanted was that one day when Tommy got married he would go some place and take her with him. Then she could take care of him properly – him and his family. Be a mother, and a grandmother._

Having arrived at her goal in life – at least in thought - Rachel sighed again.

_Tommy was only 13. It would take at least five or six years before she could bring up the subject of marriage and leaving the ranch. By then Lilly was... what? 9 or 10? Old enough to stay with her father. And then, perhaps, life would be... what she hoped it to be._

 

Lilly tugged at her skirt again, trying to get the attention of the only person nearby in the only way she could.

Disturbed in her thoughts yet again, Rachel gave her a hard push, and Lilly fell over on her bum. She didn't hurt, but the treatment startled her, and she began to cry.

Her wails pierced Rachel's ears. Rachel dropped the knife she held and covered her ears with her hands to block out the high, desperate cries. To no avail. Lilly's voice penetrated the whole room.

"Stop it!" Rachel screeched as loudly as she could, but now Lilly was scared of her, and that fear needed to be expressed. Her wails continued even louder than before.

"Aaaaargh!" Rachel launched herself at Lilly, grabbed her and shook her hard.

The physical contact which Lilly had originally tried to initiate became an attack, and between screams and hiccups the little girl fought for breath. Her mother's face was near hers, contorted in fury, her eyes savage. Rachel didn't see Lilly, but Lilly wasn't aware of this. All the little girl knew was that the one person that was alive in her world right now was attacking her.

She writhed and kicked as hard as she could. And she was lucky. Her little foot hit Rachel's womb, and the pain made her drop Lilly on the floor. For a moment both were stunned, but then Lilly saw the change in Rachel's eyes. Her mother was not done with her yet. She scrambled up on her feet as fast as she could and headed for the door. Because of the pain Rachel was slower to react, and the tiny delay was enough for Lilly to reach the latch, and to open the door and run outside... where her father was just dismounting.

She hurled herself into his outstretched arms, and he saw the tears in her eyes. His gaze went to the door where Rachel stood rooted to the spot. _What had happened between these two again?_ he wondered. Lilly hugged him so tightly, she wouldn't let go even after he had hugged her back. She clung to him.

"Shhh... Little Flower... it's all right. I'm back."

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Motherhood

Slowly, Lilly calmed down. _It was almost as if Lilly was afraid of Rachel,_ Ben thought. He was at a loss. _Why would she be afraid?_ He knew that Rachel was strict with Lilly in her efforts to mould her into a 'sweet little girl' – too strict for his taste – but was this reason enough for those two to fight like cat and dog? His thoughts drifted back to the day Lilly had been born...

 

_Her labour started but Rachel refused to let him stay nearby. All he could do was pace nervously downstairs, hour after hour, waiting for the doctor to tell him everything was over..._

_After hours he heard the wail of a baby, then the voices of both the doctor and the midwife arguing with each other. And then the door opened, and the doctor came down, answering his questioning look with a nod: Yes, it was over._

 

Ben sat Lilly in Ribbon's saddle. As tiny as she was, she shifted into a comfortable seat on the saddle's leather and grasped the pommel firmly with both hands. There was no need to support her, proud little horsegirl that she was. With a smile on his lips Ben led Ribbon into the stable while in memory he re-lived the moments when he had first seen his little girl...

 

_The midwife was carrying the little bundle downstairs and placed it into his arms._

_"It's a girl," she said._

_When Ben held his daughter for the first time something happened to him that cracked him wide open. The little bundle broke through any defense he had – consciously or subconsciously – erected against the world and reached right into his soul._

_Ben had seen countless foals being born, he knew about conception, pregnancy, and birth... the endless repeat story that kept the earth full of vibrating life... but to hold that tiny little human in his arms and to realize that it was_ his _daughter, that she had come from his own body, was just too much to grasp. Tears filled his eyes and his vision blurred, his teardrops started to fall down onto the cloth with which the midwife had wrapped the baby, but he stared on and on. He simply couldn't get enough looking at her._

_She was all finished and complete... down to her eye-lashes and her tiny fingernails. It made his heart ache. His big finger gently touched her little cheek, and his daughter's face contorted... into a smile. It did him in. He smiled in answer to the baby's smile, then he lifted her up a bit more so he could kiss her head._

_"Hello, little girl," he whispered, finally drying his eyes with his sleeve, and the baby gave a soft whimper as if in answer. His fingers stroked all over her head and face again, his eyes drank her in._

_"Welcome to the family," Ben said. The baby yawned. Ben smiled again. The soft little bundle, the big dark eyes, the tiny hairs on her head... it was all too tempting. Carefully, Ben kissed her forehead, then touched his finger to the baby's cheek again, and it turned its head and tried to suck on it._

_Ben nodded. "Yes, let's get you up to your mother. You need to suckle," he said and moved towards the stairs. But he was held back by the doctor._

_"No, Mr. Warner,... let's wait a little while," the doctor said._

_Ben's eyes became piercing. "Why? What's wrong?"_

_The doctor shook his head. "Nothing. But the birth wasn't easy, and Mrs. ... am... the mother needs more rest before she can take care of the baby."_

_The baby in Ben's arms seemed to have grasped the meaning of the doctor's words: it wouldn't get any milk soon. The little girl started to wail. Instinctively, Ben dipped his face and planted a kiss on its head murmuring, "Shhh... Little One... your mother needs some rest. You'll be with her later..." His voice was the softest timbre, it was that low purr women fell for. And it seemed to work on the baby, too. With his smell close, and his soft beard warming her face like a fur, the little girl quieted down, closed her eyes, and fell asleep._

_Ben and the doctor sat down at the table, the baby tucked safely in the crook of Ben's arm. He looked at the doctor, awaiting an explanation._

_The doctor cleared his throat. "Well... she said she didn't want the baby." When the doctor saw Ben's eyes go hard, he hastened to explain, "But that's just idle talk. Once she has seen it and held it in her arms, it will be all right. Sometimes when a birthing is hard on a woman, she talks as if she were out of her mind. No mother would refuse to love her own baby..."_

_Ben wasn't so sure about that. He knew how much Rachel had hated being pregnant. He still wasn't sure why that had been, but there certainly wasn't any guarantee of her loving the baby..._

_"Doctor, I have seen mares kick their foals. I don't know why that is, but it happens. What makes you think people are different from horses?"_

_"Because they are, Mr. Warner," the doctor replied firmly. "I have never known a woman who could desert a little one of her own."_

_A sudden image in his head like a flash – a train station full of people but devoid of the one person he was looking for: his mother - a feeling of desperation, of panic, of abject loneliness..._

_"You haven't seen much of the world then, doctor," Ben said._

_The baby moved again, whimpering. Ben's mouth dipped onto its head but this time it wasn't enough. Its wail rose, getting louder and louder. It was craving nourishment._

_Ben stood up, the baby in his arms. "That little girl needs her mother's milk. Rachel will have to make up her mind whether she wants to care for my daughter or not."_

 

Ben hauled Lilly off the saddle then took saddle and bridle off the horse. When he had put the tack away he sat Lilly back on Ribbon's back while he was checking the gelding's hooves. Then he brushed him down after the long ride. Lilly needed to shift her seat in order to avoid the brush, and the two made a game out of it. Lilly's giggles kept Ben going, and Ribbon received a very thorough brushing...

_Why couldn't Rachel be more understanding of Lilly? She was so easy to love._

"Boss...?"

Ben and Lilly turned simultaneously at the voice.

"John!" Lilly squealed, reaching out her arms for him to take her down. John complied, raising her up as high as his arms would allow. He pretended to drop her, then caught her at the last moment. Lilly shrieked and couldn't get enough of it, but finally Ben called a halt to it.

"What is it?" He had seen the frown on his foreman's forehead.

"That mare I told you about... the one nipping and biting at her foal..." John started.

"What about her?"

"Well, I just caught her. She's done it again. This time it's worse. The foal is bleeding. And it's too young to be taken away from her. I just don't know what to do..."

Ben was at a loss, too. When a mare refused to suckle her foal there wasn't much you could do, unless you happened to have a foster mother standing by. But this situation was rare enough, and Ben didn't have a mare that might be willing to suckle a foal that wasn’t her own.

On top of that there was the matter of the vicious dam. _What to do with her? It was her first foal. She was still young. Maybe she would come around. But what if she didn't? What if she attacked her next foal, too? What should he do then? Put her down?_

Ben sighed. _What did you do when a mother refused to take care of her own child?_ It made him think back on Lilly's first year.

 

_Just like the doctor had said Rachel didn't want anything to do with her own child. Only in Ben's presence would she acquiesce to breast-feed her daughter. The first night when the baby started crying beside her in its crib she refused to get up and touch it. Ben had come over from his own bedroom and lifted his daughter out of her crib._

_After a couple of days when Rachel got out of bed and was able to move about, the situation eased up a bit, and she would clean and feed the little girl that had been named 'Lilly'. At night Lilly slept with Ben, and whenever she woke up and needed milk it was Ben who brought her to her mother and supervised the encounter. Rachel acted like a sleep-walker around her daughter, going through the necessary motions but never quite aware of what she was doing._

_Ben had spoken to the doctor at length, and the doctor had reassured him that sometimes women needed more time to adjust to a baby – even if it wasn't their first child. But he didn't offer any explanation as to the cause of Rachel's strange behaviour, and Ben didn't fool himself: Rachel had never wanted his child. Whether she did it deliberately or not, she reacted the way she did because she did not love Lilly._

_It made his guts churn. A child needed_ years _to grow up and become independent of its mother..._

 

 

The little foal was standing at the opposite side of the box. The bleeding had stopped but there was a red stain running from its shoulder along its foreleg. When Ben entered the box the mare greeted him as usual. For her nothing had happened. Ben touched her, then turned to the colt, which became anxious and scared.

"Shhh...." Ben murmured. He advanced further, scratching the colt slightly between its ears and along its neck, fondling its body for reassurance while looking at the wound. The little animal calmed down somewhat. Ben tried to lead it to its dam but the dam immediately threatened it and raised a leg as if to strike out. Strangely enough the little colt was more scared of the human nearby than its own mother.

"Get a halter, John!" Ben called out.

With the halter Ben fixed the mare so she couldn't turn around and Ben brushed and touched her all over her body while talking to her softly. Only after the mare was convinced that she was being touched by Ben only did he lead the little colt to her udder. The colt tried to fight, but it wasn't very strong, and Ben just shoved him under his mother's hind legs. When the colt smelt the udder, he started suckling.

Ben watched the mare. She hadn't reacted, didn't seem to mind. So it couldn't be that her udder was sore and hurting. Sometimes that was the reason for mares to attack their young ones. But it obviously wasn't the case here. _What exactly was it that made her refuse the colt? Its looks, its smell?_ Ben was at a loss.

The mare was standing perfectly calm while the little one attacked her udder viciously and greedily drank in his mother's milk. He hadn't had a drop all day!

"Release the mare," Ben said to John while he himself stepped back to watch the two horses. The moment the halter was off the mare put down her head to eat hay. Mother and child were a picture of harmony.

But then the mare turned and beheld the little colt. Like a flash of lightning and much too fast for Ben to react she bit the colt's flank. It was a savage bite, and the little one gave a yell of pain and fell. Ben jumped in-between to block any further attack, but the mare was calm again. All she had wanted was the little one gone from her. Again, the foal was lying at the opposite wall of the box in the straw, stunned by her attack.

"What do we do?" John asked. He sounded hopeless.

"There's two ways," Ben answered. "One is to kill the colt now and sell the mare to someone who doesn't want to breed from her."

He paused.

"And the other?" John asked. He didn't like Ben's first option.

Ben sighed. "We put them in separate boxes, and someone will have to take the colt to his mother to drink while she is tied up four or five times a day. That way the colt can survive. We'll have to see what happens when he grows up, how he acts then."

At the end of his speech Ben looked at John and they fixed each other with a long stare. John knew that Ben had gone through exactly this situation with Lilly and Rachel.

"Why do you think she's that way?" John asked Ben.

"Don't know. Maybe it was too early for her to get with foal. Maybe some mares don't make good mothers ever. Maybe she doesn't like this foal but dotes on the next one. No idea, John."

It summed up the experiences Ben had collected in his life. But John was a good observer of people, and he liked his boss. To John, Ben's remark seemed more like a reflection of Ben’s own situation. After all, everybody knew Rachel was completely besotted with her son Tommy. Lilly, however, always seemed to be and do 'wrong'. It was as if in Rachel's eyes Lilly's behaviour, her personality, her sex... nothing ever seemed right.

 

_The first two years after Lilly's birth had been hard, but once Lilly had been able to walk and run about confidently, both Ben and John had taken her under their wings and let her be with them in the stables, the corrals and wherever they went. Both men watched her constantly, and they witnessed her childish antics and partook in her little failures and successes._

 

John nodded. "I'll take care of it, boss. I'll make time between things and make sure the little one gets to suckle when he has to."

Ben was still skeptical. "Doesn't _have_ to work out, John. That colt might turn out to be a vicious one. They all learn from their mothers."

Another look shared, and suddenly Ben closed his eyes in pain. He had just realized what he had said.

John occupied himself by scratching a spot of dirt from the halter. "We got other horses around, boss. The little one's got more'n one horse to learn from..."

John left, and Ben picked up Lilly who had been climbing up on a pile of straw watching her two favourite men.

For a moment the pain was too sharp, and Ben hugged Lilly tight. Then Lilly giggled and squirmed to get down, running after John, calling his name.

_More than one to learn from... right._

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Just a bath

That night Rachel wanted Lilly to take a bath.

 

"No!" Lilly hated being under Rachel's command, and the latest events had made her scared of her mother's touch. She ran over to her father, who still sat at the dinner table reading in a book about husbandry he had ordered from a bookstore in Chicago.

"Lilly..." Ben hauled her up on his lap. "Bathing isn't so bad. Come on, Little Flower." He stood up with her still in his arms and meant to hand her over to Rachel. But Lilly clung to him and hid her face in his neck.

"Shhh..." Ben's voice did nothing to calm her down this time. The more he tried to pry her little hands loose, the more frantic she got.

"Maybe you should drop the idea for tonight," Ben said to Rachel but Rachel shook her head. Everything was ready, and she didn't want to go through all the preparations a second time.

"Tomorrow will be the same. And soon she will tell us what to do and what not to do."

Ben's lips twitched in amusement, his look somewhere between incredulous and mocking. _Did she really believe this? The girl was four years old. Plenty of time to teach her to understand._

Lilly's little fists clawed into Ben's shirt, and Rachel used all her strength to pry her daughter’s hands open while Lilly frantically tried to cling to her father.

"Wait... wait..." Ben tried to calm both of them. Softly, he rubbed his daughter's back. "Shhhh... baby. Let go, Lilly..." he murmured, rubbing on and on. Rachel gave a defeated sigh and dropped her hands. He couldn't quite interpret her look. Resigned... but still impatient...

Ben kept rubbing Lilly's back until she tentatively loosened her grip on his shirt. He looked at her and moved to hand her over to Rachel. Lilly's look changed to one of panic, tears forming in her eyes.

"I'll read you a story afterwards, Little Flower. Your favourite," he said to Lilly, but Lilly wasn't convinced. Rachel was steaming. _The water was getting cold!_ With scarcely hidden impatience she peeled Lilly out of her clothes while Ben went outside to have another look at the little colt.

 

 

He found John in the box, the mare tied up hard.

"Release her," Ben ordered.

"But..." John started to protest.

"No, John. No point in hurting her. You can't force a mother to love her child."

John did as he was told. The mare shook her head, relieved that the pressure on her neck was gone. When she turned her head to look at her offspring Ben jumped in between.

"Shhh...!" he calmed her before she could recognize the little creature busily enjoying the milk bar.

"If she doesn't see the colt, she doesn't mind," Ben summed up the experience.

"You think we could blindfold her so the colt can stay with her?" John asked Ben.

"What? Blindfold her for months and months until the colt is finally weaned? No, John. It'll leave the mare blind and she'll hurt herself. What's the point of this?"

John shook his head in defeat. There was no solution in sight.

"The only thing you can do, John, instead of tying her up so hard is to blindfold her for the time the little one is suckling."

"Good idea," John said, immediately springing to action and looking for a rag or cloth that he could use for this purpose.

When he returned the little colt had drunk its fill and Ben stopped him. "No need to try it now. Try it tomorrow. And go easy on her, you hear?"

John looked at Ben. He wasn't very fond of mares who didn't tick right.

Ben patted the mare and John led the little colt out and into its own box. With the foal gone the mare relaxed completely and enjoyed Ben's caresses. John came back and looked at them, inwardly shaking his head that Ben was still so sympathetic and magnanimous where the mare was concerned. Ben saw John's sceptical look.

"Leave her be, John. She's got her reasons."

"Yeah?" John asked. "And what reasons are they?"

"Don't know," Ben shook his head, "but whatever it is, she won't tell us, will you, girl?"

The mare snickered softly.

 

 

_This drudgery never seemed to end! Day-in, day-out she worked her fingers to the bone to keep the place neat and clean and to put food on the table while everybody else just kept coming and going._

Lilly sensed her mother's edginess. Rachel's hasty movements to rid her daughter of her clothes almost hurt Lilly. Yet the little girl kept silent while her mother’s hands shook with nervousness.

_It was always the same. Every day was just like the next. And it didn't seem to end. That stubborn girl! She knew exactly how to move her arms to help with her own undressing, yet she never did it willingly! Always fidgeting... always delaying things. The water was already getting cold, and soon she would have to heat more water to add into the bathtub, and it would take longer and longer till she was finished for today. She still needed to scrub the floor and to prepare tomorrow's washing..._

Again, Lilly's arms didn't move fast enough for Rachel and in her anxiousness to get her daughter into the tub she almost ripped the sleeve off the girl's blouse. Then it was accomplished, and in the same haste in which she had undressed her Rachel heaved Lilly up and placed her into the water.

The sudden impact of the warm water engulfing her body distressed Lilly and she started screaming.

"Be quiet!" Rachel shouted, collected Lilly's clothes and put the still clean clothes on the heap of laundry lying aside for next day's washing.

Lilly stomped around in the water. Her body was slowly getting used to the water's temperature, and it wasn't too bad, but then another shock gripped her. Lilly realised that she couldn't leave the tub on her own. Rachel came back with a towel and a piece of curd soap.

Lilly watched her anxiously like a caged animal would watch its janitor. She felt exposed, and her father was gone.

Without a word, without even establishing eye contact, Rachel ran the curd soap over Lilly's body. It was scratchy and hard, and Lilly didn't like it. With her little hands she tried to fight it off. Rachel was determined not to be irritated by Lilly's behaviour. She ran the soap over her shoulders, back and buttocks, then turned her around.

The soap was rough, and while Rachel scrubbed on and on Lilly tried to protect her most vulnerable body parts. She still had a large bruise on her left leg - the result of a fall a day ago - but Rachel didn't differentiate. In her hurry she scrubbed away, lost in thoughts, trying hard not to feel irritated by her daughter's evasive movements.

 _That leg was really dirty._ Rachel scrubbed it harder not paying attention to the fact that she tried to scrub off 'dirt' that was actually a bruise. Lilly winced, and her little hands tried to shove Rachel and the curd soap off the bruise.

 _The leg just wouldn't get clean._ Rachel tried again and scrubbed harder when Lilly's wail hit her ears.

"You cry as much as you want... but _you will be clean!"_ Rachel screamed back at her.

Lilly's wails got louder.

"Out.... out... " It was all she could scream to communicate her urgent wish to leave the tub, but then, it was all that needed to be communicated.

_Tomorrow was washing day. Tommy needed clean trousers for school, and there were still two shirts of his to mend._

The piercing wail strained her ears, but Rachel made a conscious effort not to be pressured by it. _Little children screamed all the time, and it was their mother's duty to make them behave._

The scrubbing hurt her so much, screaming alone didn't help any longer. Desperately, Lilly reached out and clawed her little hands into Rachel's hair to make her stop.

At that Rachel awoke as if from a dream and stopped her frantic scrubbing. She dug her fingernails into Lilly's hands to make her release her hair, and when the little girl complied, Rachel rose quickly. Lilly looked at her mother's face and saw her eyes grow cold. Rachel turned and walked to the kitchen where she grabbed a wooden cooking spoon. Then she turned back to Lilly and approached her, the spoon in her hand raised up to strike.

"I'll teach you how much it hurts when you tug at my hair," she said, a quiet hatred vibrant in her voice. Her free hand grabbed Lilly's curls and jerked the girl's head to the side. From out of the corner of her eye Lilly could see her mother raise the wooden spoon even higher. She knew what was coming, but all she could do was scream...

 

 

It was precisely at this moment that Ben opened the door and walked in. Upon hearing Lilly's scream he looked in her direction, and what he saw made his blood freeze. Rachel towered above his little girl, her fist in Lilly's hair, the other hand raised to strike her – with what Ben didn't care to find out. Immediately, he sprang into action.

He wasn't quick enough to stop Rachel's strike, but he managed to shove her away from Lilly and to push her off balance, and so Rachel missed.

"No!!" she screeched in a hysteric tone he had heard her use before only once.

"She has to learn to obey!" Still in a world of her own Rachel tried to attack Lilly again by navigating her movements around Ben's frame. Ben's hand pushed against Rachel's shoulder, and she staggered backwards to find her balance again. But it still wasn't enough to break the spell.

Ben looked at the woman in front of him but couldn't understand what was going on. He saw that she wasn't fully aware of what happened around her. She seemed like in a trance. Incapable of talking, he stared at her as she found her balance and approached again, her gaze fixed on Lilly, her hand tightening around the spoon she still held.

At that he backhanded her hard, severing forever the link that he had tried to establish with her over the years.

Rachel woke out of her stupor and he could see that her eyes finally recognized her surroundings, the situation, and him.

"Don't touch my daughter."

His words were delivered so quietly and yet with so much deadly threat that Rachel shivered.

 

Never in all his life had Ben Wade used violence against a woman. Indeed, he wouldn't have thought himself capable of it. But this time he couldn't have stopped himself if his life had depended on it. The image of Rachel attacking Lilly had triggered something in him that was beyond reason. That Rachel had continued to threaten Lilly had unleashed a force of nature that was as old as life itself: the instinct of a parent to protect their child.

For a few seconds there was no sound to be heard. All three of them were struggling with the understanding of what had just happened and what would forever alter their relationships with each other.

The image of Rachel threatening Lilly was still vibrant in his mind's eye, and Ben closed his eyes and tried to will it away. Then a thought crossed his mind and he tensed.

"The bruises on her face at Christmas, they were from you, weren't they? At Thanksgiving, when she ran off to the river and I retrieved her, she was actually running away because she was scared you might hurt her..."

Rachel didn't answer – but then, she didn't need to. For a moment Ben felt as if he would drown in the rush of images that ran through his mind and the feelings of terror they produced. _How many times had Lilly been in danger, and he hadn't known? Hadn't seen it? Hadn't ever imagined it because he had not believed Rachel capable of hurting her?_

He took a deep breath to calm himself. He understood now. And he didn't mind his rash backhand any longer. He looked into Rachel's eyes, his quiet voice belying the steel of his words:

"If you ever hurt her again – I will kill you."

Rachel's eyes displayed an air of acceptance, and of finality. 

Wrapping his still dripping daughter in a towel, he picked Lilly up and carried her upstairs to his bedroom.

 

That night after Lilly had fallen asleep Ben couldn't bring himself to carry her over to Rachel's bedroom to place her into her own bed. Instead he slept beside her, waking up whenever she stirred in her sleep, touching and stroking her softly, reassuring himself she was safe and well before succumbing to sleep again.

 

 

 

 

 


	5. The true Rachel

After what had happened family life changed. Ben rarely let Lilly out of his sight, and both Lilly and Tommy - who had no idea what exactly had taken place - understood that their mother was standing apart now.

Rachel tried to ignore her daughter as much as possible. She provided her food, she mended her clothes, but she didn't speak to her and she avoided touching her completely. Ben dressed and undressed his little girl, and after the first few times when Lilly didn't know how to react to his solemn face and his unpractised movements, the inherent magic between father and daughter flared up again.

They made a game out of it.

In the morning Ben would provide the bits of clothing for Lilly to put on by herself, and whenever the little girl didn't do it quickly enough and lingered about, Ben would tickle her bare skin to make her get dressed quicker. Only after she was fully dressed would she get the cuddle she was looking forward to, and so Lilly – in between delay tactics in order to get tickled by her father - became more and more deft at getting dressed all by herself.

Undressing became an even better time. Lilly would take off her shoes, and only after she had put them away beside the bed Ben would kiss her forehead. She undressed by herself, and together they carefully placed the clothes on a chair to be used again the next day or – when they were soiled – the clothes were put aside to be washed. After undressing Lilly would pick a soft cloth from 'her drawer' and hand it over to Ben to be rubbed down with it like a horse. It was a time of squirming, of tickling, of caressing, and both Ben and Lilly extended this part. Then Lilly dived into her nightgown and fetched a brush from 'her drawer', handing it to Ben for him to brush her hair for the night.

Brushing his little girl's hair elicited all kinds of feelings, not the least of which was a constant marvel at what this little girl would turn out to be one day. Ben loved women, loved their features... their soft skin, their girlish giggles, their fragility, and he also loved it when they had beautiful hair. Lilly's hair was the softest he had ever touched in his life, and whenever he brushed through it carefully so as not to pull at it and hurt her, his hand would follow the brush to feel the silkiness of her curls, and to watch as the evening light reflected in them.

At such moments Lilly stood rooted to the spot relishing his touch. She wouldn't have minded him brushing on forever. But, eventually, even the longest brushing would stop, and then she would climb into bed being followed by Ben who would read a story.

 

Before the incident with the bathtub Lilly had always snuggled up to him, burying her face in his neck. Ben used to think that she just liked cuddling – and he certainly didn't mind – but now he realized that she had actually tried to hide. Perhaps she hadn't even listened to the stories he used to read but had relived scenes she had gone through during the day while his voice vibrated in the background and she felt safe in his embrace.

Ben didn't like these thoughts, but they kept coming, especially when he realized how fast Lilly changed from the little girl that needed a lot of cuddling to a vivacious little girl that actively listened to his stories.

When he read to her now, Lilly listened intently to what Ben was saying. And her own speech improved rapidly, her range of vocabulary practically exploded overnight. Time and time again she would interrupt him with questions, and he would have to explain every aspect of what he read to her. They talked about the story, about the hero and the princess, about the magic animals and the happy ending that always waited just around the corner and that seemed to be so different from real life.

It was intriguing for Ben to see how her little mind worked. Sometimes, her questions were downright challenging, making him doubt his opinions and his own perception of the world. Sometimes, the brutality of the fairy tales needed to be explained. With the knowledge of his little girl having known brutality from her mother, Ben wasn't inclined to uphold the vision of a brutal and dangerous world. And yet – the world around them _was_ dangerous, and you couldn't stop people from being brutal.

Finding himself torn between the truth and the upholding of a hopeful dream, Ben was truly tempted to create a world of love and hope for his little girl, a world that was comparatively better than the brutal world of fairy tales, and also better than the world of callousness and abandonment that he himself had experienced.

_And yet – what was the point of keeping the truth away from her? One day his little girl would be grown up, facing the world all by herself. It was best to prepare her. But how?_

Ben didn't realize it, but the fact that Rachel refused to deal with her daughter forced him to spend much more time with his little girl than he would have done otherwise. It confronted him with daily problems of a variety he had never contemplated before, but at the same time it opened him up to life's tribulations in a way that even watching his foals and their dams never could have done. If Ben Wade ever met a challenge in his life that was to change him and open him up for love, it was this.

 

 

 

Marguerite Hargrove rose from the table where she had sat and corrected the homework of the school children, smoothed down the wrinkles on her elegant dress and walked to the stove to heat water for a cup of tea.

 _It was a shame,_ she thought. _Before the war she would just have told a slave to bring her a cup of tea. Now she had to do it herself. Just like the cooking. Just like the cleaning. The Civil War had robbed her of her family, her family's estate and all her hopes for the future._

She put a pot filled with water on the stove and lighted a match, starting a fire. For long minutes she was lost in thought while the flames flickered before her eyes.

_She was almost thirty now. It was time to do what she had once come here to do: find a suitable husband._

Marguerite sighed.

_It wasn’t as easy as she had thought it to be. When she had arrived in Indian Springs five years ago, she had heard that the ‘Wild West’ was teeming with men who had made their fortunes. And like many women, she, Marguerite, had wanted to profit from it. But upon arriving in town she had soon realized that money did not automatically mean ‘education’ or ‘class’, and that most of the men who had become wealthy were either already married – and some of them to really base women at that! - and that the rest had made their money gambling, cheating or exploiting... character traits that were by no means eliminated after the attainment of wealth._

The water started to boil and Marguerite hastened to pour it in the kettle and put out the fire to save on wood. With the meagre salary she received as a teacher, it was hard to keep up appearances and give the impression of a lady of class, enjoying the good things in life. But she managed to do so by strictly separating her private life from her public one. She’d rather starve and forego some luxuries at home than appear ordinary to the townspeople who had by now accepted her as _the_ model of a lady in town.

Sitting down at the table with her cup of tea she resumed her original train of thought.

 _Wealth was_ the _criteria to choose a husband. After having toiled away on a measly income for five years she knew one thing for sure: she never wanted to be poor again! And any husband she might select would have to have one merit above all: money._

 

 

 

Summer came – and with it a weather even hotter and more humid than usual.

Tommy enjoyed school. During summer most families needed their kids to help with the farm work. There were only a handful of children left and Miss Hargrove could concentrate on them. Clad in her usual constricting bodices, the hot air made her lethargic and passive and uncharacteristically indulgent.

Tommy was taking advantage of this indulgence whenever he could. Again and again he asked questions, and Miss Hargrove had to come over and bend over his work while he enjoyed a tingling feeling at having her standing close. Whenever her curves, rigidly shaped by her bodice, were in front of his face and the smell of her soap in his nostrils, his pants would grow too tight, and he had to fight the urge to use his hands to adjust them and to scratch an itch that was growing and growing. In moments such as these he was hoping that his teacher would announce a break so he could run off. No, he was hoping that she would come closer so he could touch her... No, he was wishing he was invisible...

 

 

While Tommy whiled away his days at school dreaming and fantasizing about his teacher, Lilly stayed close to Ben or John, observing her two men at work or playing nearby. The men didn’t mind when she became all dusty or dirty, and with Ben making sure that Lilly wasn’t left alone with Rachel ever again, Lilly lost whatever fear of her mother she had harboured. Rachel didn’t do more than provide her food and clean her clothes, and it was all Lilly needed from her mother. Her days were spent outside in the sunshine, and a golden tan built on her face, arms and legs while she wore a happy smile that rarely left her face.

 

 

Meanwhile, Rachel went about her duties like a sleep-walker, rarely leaving her dream world, sometimes not speaking for days on end.

_The laundry had to be washed. But first she needed to sweep the floor. – What was that? Oh, no! Another chunk of meat. That wasteful girl! Since she had been prohibited from... correcting... that girl, it just wandered about taking food from the store room and then dropping it somewhere..._

Rachel let out an angry and frustrated sound.

_She hated it when food was wasted. Hated it! No! This piece of meat would NOT go to waste..._

It didn't taste particularly good any more but Rachel ate it anyway, at the same time scrubbing away at the spot of grease the meat had left behind on the floor.

 

One hour later a violent bout of retching hit her. At the same time Rachel could feel something soaking her bloomers and trickle along her legs. Embarrassed, she undressed and started to wash herself, but had to stop what she was doing because she couldn't help vomiting again.

Another hour later saw her lying in bed, a worried Ben sitting beside her. He had placed a bucket beside the bed – Rachel just couldn't stop vomiting – but by now whenever she heaved there was nothing inside her but bile.

In her helplessness she had soiled the bedsheets - a fact that embarrassed her more than Ben – but she hadn't been able to help herself. Her body tried to get rid of what had entered her stomach in whichever way it could.

Ben tried to make her drink some water, but the sips Rachel took resulted in another violent fit of vomiting. He was at a loss and bade John fetch the doctor.

 

Doc Martens came immediately, and after a short examination and a few questions he determined that the meat Rachel had admitted to have swallowed must have been bad, and that this was the reason her body tried to get rid of everything it had inside.

The doctor stayed for the night, reassuring both Ben and Tommy that he would call them should they be wanted. Tommy was still young enough to fall asleep, but Ben sensed that Rachel's condition was serious, and several times during the night he walked over to look in on her – each time finding the doctor sitting faithfully at her bedside.

The next day Rachel's vomiting and diarrhea stopped. But she didn't get better. Quite to the contrary. She developed a fever, and the water the doctor made her drink wouldn't stay down. Even wrapping her in wet bedsheets couldn't reduce her temperature. It was as if she was burning up from inside.

And she didn't fight. She seemed to have given up on life. Both Ben and the doctor could read in her eyes that she welcomed the repose, that she welcomed whatever she seemed to see beyond them...

They exchanged a look. The doctor shook his head. If a patient didn't want to get well again, then the best of help was in vain.

 

Tommy had returned from school late that afternoon and simply registered that his mother wasn't better yet. Lilly was with John.

Ben hadn't left Rachel once in all the time. John had looked in once or twice to talk over ranch matters with Ben, and Ben had sent him off with orders. He didn't intend to leave Rachel, hoping she would decide to finally look him in the face, smile perhaps, or talk. But apart from a moan here and there she didn't utter a sound. Whenever she beheld him sitting at her bedside, she would turn her head to avoid his gaze.

The doctor had taken a nap in the afternoon in order to be able to relieve Ben in the evening, but when he suggested Ben take a break Ben just shook his head. He wasn't prepared to leave Rachel. He had sat at her bedside practically all day thinking, and he had begun to see her differently. If he had another night of quiet thinking, it might give him the kick he needed to say what needed to be said between them.

 

Another night and another morning went by like this. The doctor was committed to stay – unless fetched to some emergency. The new day went by... sombre... silent... full of unspoken words between Ben and Rachel.

Rachel drifted in and out of consciousness. It was already dark when she opened her eyes again.

"No, don't!"

Tired to the bone, Ben looked at her. The doctor wiped cold sweat from her face.

"No, Frank, no!"

Ben sat up slightly. _'Frank'._ _Could she mean Frank Dalton? Did she relive one of his many abuses? Why was it that in times of struggles you remembered the pain rather than the good times?_

"Please don't shoot him! I'm carrying his child."

Now Ben was sure. The scene stood vividly before his inner eye, Rachel, Dalton – and Tommy. _Tommy! If Rachel kept on talking, the doctor might learn what nobody must know: that five years ago, in a desperate attempt to save Ben's life, Tommy had shot his own father._

"Doctor," Ben said somewhat lamely, "I don't think she'll be with us much longer. She should see her boy. Would you get him?"

The doctor looked at Ben. "She's delirious. You think it wise, Mr. Warner, to fetch the boy now?" He didn't seem convinced.

"Martin..." Rachel's voice was a whisper.

Ben bent closer to hear better. "What did you say...?"

Suddenly Rachel thrashed as if she was fighting the world. Ben held her down on the bed.

"Martin... no!" Her piercing scream cut through the air and both Ben and the doctor were surprised by its strength.

"Martin... don't die...!" Her hands folded over her womb protectively and she began to weep.

 

Like a blow it hit Ben: _whoever 'Martin' was,_ he _was the one she had been trying to protect from Frank Dalton._ He _was the one whose child she was carrying in her delirium. And that meant Tommy wasn't Dalton's son. He was the son of a man named 'Martin', a man Rachel had obviously loved - and lost._

"Martin..." Her tears kept coming like an endless stream. And Ben understood that for the first time in all their years together he saw the _true Rachel,_ the woman he had shared a part of his life with but had never come close to. Couldn't, no matter what he did. Couldn't, because she loved a man named 'Martin'. Loved him more each time she looked at Tommy, thought of him when Ben looked at her, and dreamed of him when Ben had taken her to his bed.

Exhausted, Rachel had stopped weeping. She seemed to be sleeping.

"Doctor, I think you should fetch the boy now," Ben said. The doctor nodded.

Ben touched Rachel's forehead, and she opened her eyes and looked at him. A panic seized him. In her present state Rachel might name him 'Wade' and not 'Warner'. The doctor hadn't left the room yet. Rachel opened her mouth.

_Now._

_It was too late, he knew it. Short of strangling her he couldn't stop her._

"Who are you?" Rachel asked Ben.

A moan escaped his lips. _She didn't know, didn't recognize him, was still in her dreamworld. He was safe._

The doctor's eyes glazed over. He had heard Rachel's question. _After all the care he had seen this man give his woman over the last three days she didn't recognize him. Ben Warner wouldn't be able to bid her farewell._

The door closed behind the doctor, and Ben breathed easier. _The doctor had been around for three days and two nights nonstop now. What if he insisted that he went home – or at least lie down in one of the bedrooms? He just_ had _to make sure that Rachel wouldn't give away his true identity. And there was nothing the doctor or anybody else could do for her any more._

 

The door opened, and the doctor brought in Tommy, who was all eyes. Ben lifted his arm and gestured for him to come to Rachel's bedside.

"Doctor, would you give us a few minutes alone?" Ben asked, and the doctor nodded and left again.

Tommy still didn't dare to step closer.

"Come here, boy, say good-bye to your Ma," Ben said.

Tommy edged closer to the bed. Rachel looked at him. For the first time she recognized someone.

"Tommy..." she whispered.

"Mummy..."

Tommy swallowed hard. He was scared. Ben's words about 'saying good-bye' had taken his safe footing away. Tommy knew that he was not Ben's son. _Why should Ben keep him on the ranch? What would happen to him if his mother died?_ As much as he had been irked by the tedious piousness she exhibited, she was his mother. The only relative he had.

"You are such a beautiful boy," Rachel said.

Tommy swallowed his tears but couldn't keep them out of his voice.

"Mummy..."

"Such a good boy... you will be a good man," Rachel said. She was getting weaker by the minute, and Ben could tell that she wouldn't last much longer.

"We will go away," Rachel continued, "and we will be together always..."

Her voice died down. She kept on whispering but neither Tommy nor Ben could hear her. Her mumbling ended, and her eyes closed. It was scary for Tommy, but Ben saw that she wasn't dead yet, she was asleep.

Rachel's last words had shocked Tommy to the core. He had backed off a little and pressed closer to Ben. Now he slung his arm around Ben's shoulder, trying to hold on to something, someone...

Ben rose from the bed and took Tommy with him - out of the bedroom and downstairs into the kitchen. When the doctor saw them coming he returned to his patient.

 

Tommy stood and stared into the void. Ben touched his shoulders and turned him. The boy's eyes were dry.

"Will..." Tommy's voice broke. _He wasn't supposed to break down, wasn't supposed to cry like a girl. He was thirteen now, almost a man..._

"Tommy," Ben started but Tommy shook his head and looked at him.

"Mum is dying," he said with a stare that almost scared Ben. _This wasn't a moment to lie._

Ben nodded. "Yes, Tommy, I know."

"Will my father be able to hurt her where she is going?"

 

For a moment Ben couldn't think straight. _His father? The man Rachel had called 'Martin' in her dreams?_ But then Ben remembered that Tommy hadn't been witness to this. Tommy still thought that Dalton was his father. After all, he bore his name. And Rachel had probably never mentioned Martin to her son either.

 _Could Dalton hurt Rachel?_ Ben had never bothered about the deeper theological questions. Truth be told, he didn't believe in an afterlife, didn't even believe in a God, at least not a benevolent one.

But Tommy needed to be reassured. His mother was dying, and it unsettled him. The boy thought that Rachel might venture into a realm in which she might have to face Frank Dalton again.

Ben's voice was serious. "Tommy, I promise you that Frank Dalton will never hurt your mother again."

With these words Tommy's tears finally came, and he let himself be hugged by Ben.

The doctor had come out of the bedroom and stood at the top of the stairs watching them for long minutes. When Ben finally saw him standing there he shot him an inquiring look. The doctor shook his head. Rachel was dead. Tommy had seen the gesture, too.

"What happens now?" Tommy choked.

"You don't need to worry, Tommy," Ben assured him. "I will take care of you."

Tommy turned to look at Ben. "But..." _But I ain't your son._ His eyes said it clearly, and Ben understood it just as easily.

"Tommy, I will take care of both you _and_ Lilly."

It wasn't the first time that Doc Martens had been at the deathbed of a wife and mother. Often he had witnessed husbands being left behind to fend for their children when their wives had died in childbirth. Such a death altered the whole balance of the family involved.

Apart from occasional help for an injured ranch hand that had required only a few hours at best, Doc Martens had stayed on the 'Horseshoe Ranch' only once, when Rachel had given birth to Lilly. Both then and now the doctor had been impressed and intrigued by Ben Warner. But never more so than at this moment.

He had witnessed Ben's promise to Tommy, and he knew that Ben would stand by his word.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Surrogate mother

The next day Rachel was laid to rest. She hadn’t been known to many people, but Ben Warner’s wealth and his importance demanded that an appearance be made, and most of the townspeople who wanted to be seen were attending the funeral and paying their condolences.

Both Tommy and Ben were staying behind at Rachel's grave after everybody had left. The undertaker approached Ben cautiously. "Mr. Warner, sir..."

Ben looked up.

"Are you happy with the grave as it is?"

Ben frowned at the man's words. _Why that question? What could possibly be wrong with it?_

"You know, most people only have a wooden cross with the name on it and the day of death. But... perhaps you wish to have a headstone. It won't be cheap, though..."

The man sounded mighty unsure. And he had his reasons. Death wasn't an easy business. Even calm and measured people tended to be out of sorts when confronted with it. The undertaker, a small, shrivelled old fellow, had faced enough such encounters in his long career. Ben Warner might well turn out to be one of those men who lavished money on their woman while she was alive and available but turned into penny-pinchers once she was dead.

Ben considered the man's words for a moment, then he nodded. "A stone would be nice."

The undertaker was pleasantly surprised. "What would you like me to inscribe on it?" he asked.

Ben looked at Tommy, who stood beside him, head down, still looking at the heap of earth that covered his mother. He touched his shoulder but the boy gave no reaction. Gripping it bit harder and slightly shaking him with his hand, Ben asked him, "What do you want the stone to say, Tommy?"

Tommy's eyes were blind with tears when he looked up at Ben. He hadn't heard a word. Ben turned to the undertaker. "I'll tell you in a few days."

 

 

Tired to the bone, they returned to the ranch. Both Ben and Tommy occupied themselves with work to get their minds off the misery they felt. Lilly was a distraction, but also a reminder of the fact that Rachel was dead and that from now on they were on their own.

Ben let Lilly run wild during the evening. Very late she fell asleep on the rug in front of the fireplace, and Ben carried her off to his bedroom. Tommy was staying in his room and Ben looked in on him. He was lying in bed fully dressed as if incapable of resuming the rituals of normalcy. Ben sat down at his bedside. They looked at each other, but each was lost in his own thoughts, and they stayed silent.

It was almost midnight when Tommy finally fell asleep.

 

Exhausted, Ben sat down in front of the fireplace and sighed. He wished he hadn't told the undertaker he wanted a stone. It wasn't the money. He didn't mind the money. God knew, Rachel had never asked for any of his money – except when Tommy had needed something. He wasn't begrudging her even the shiniest stone. The problem lay somewhere else: apart from her name and the day of her death he didn't know anything about Rachel. He didn't even know her age or her maiden name, or whether there were any relatives of hers left. She herself had never volunteered any information. In the beginning he had tried to talk to her, tried to draw her out, wanting to find out who she was. But in that quiet and diligent way of hers she had stalled his questions, undone his efforts at getting to know her. And, after a time, he had grown frustrated and had stopped.

Thinking back on the many moments when he had given her openings to come closer to him - moments she had let pass by - Ben realized that it wasn't his mistake when now, after five years of living in the same house, he didn't really know her. She hadn't wanted to be known. And he doubted that there was anybody else in town who knew her. _Which words, what adage or perhaps dedication could there possibly be that fit a woman like Rachel?_

Quietly, Ben got up and slipped into his bedroom to fetch his Bible. Lilly lay cuddled under the blankets, her hair all over her eyes and nose. Softly Ben combed her wild curls away and looked at her sleeping face and the small open mouth from which spittle had drizzled onto his pillow. A sudden peace settled in his bones. _Yes, Rachel was gone, and with her any chance of reconciliation, any possibility for redemption. But Lilly was still here..._

 

Back in front of the fireplace with the Bible on his knees he thought about the few inscriptions he had ever seen on a headstone – for an outlaw on the run sometimes a cemetery was the best hiding place nearby a town. Sheriffs and posses looked everywhere, but they didn't like to venture into a cemetery after nightfall.

"... devoted wife of ..."

"... loving mother..."

"... rest in peace."

Only the last one was useful. He couldn't bring himself to put a lie on that headstone, but he did wish for her to rest peacefully – especially after he had grasped the meaning of the words she had uttered in her delirium. But 'Rachel Dalton, died 12 July 1878, rest in peace' wasn't enough. And it didn't really do her justice.

He groaned. _He better make sure it was something that fit. Whatever it was that he would eventually have engraved, it would literally be carved in stone._

Ben wrestled with his dilemma the whole night. He read through the proverbs and the psalms, and he tried to remember the Bible stories that had been important to Rachel. But thoughts about her lover 'Martin' kept interfering and haunted him. He tried to picture Rachel as a young girl, in the throes of a first love with a boy who was still green.

_Obviously, at some point in their relationship, she had given in to him – or perhaps she had given in to her own passion, although this was hard to fathom – and the result had not only been Tommy but also personal disaster._

_Her living son Tommy... and her dead lover Martin... and God in Heaven were all she had ever loved and wanted from life._ Ben perked up. _There_ was _a psalm that spoke of that... where was it again?_ Exhausted, he turned the pages until he found what he had been looking for.

 

 

Several weeks later Alice Evans accompanied a friend of hers to the cemetery. They passed Rachel's grave. A shining new headstone had been erected. Curious about its inscription she approached and read:

Rachel,  
died 12 July 1878  
_Whom have I in Heaven but thee?_  
And there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee.  
Psalm 73:25

Alice Evans stood and blinked back tears. _Who would have thought for a man like Ben Wade to admit that he had lost a true love, and that he wished to be at her side in Heaven? Perhaps he did have a heart after all._

 

 

 

"Tommy, I want you to go back to school!"

"But I want to work on the ranch!"

_What was the matter with the boy? He had been happy in school before. And now he insisted upon working on the ranch. Why?_

"That's ridiculous, Tommy! We have plenty of ranch hands. Your help is not needed. Apart from that we have _men's_ work to do here, work that you cannot do yet. Or do you want to muck out the stalls for the next three years?"

"But I'm 13 years old. I should be working, earning my keep!"

 _So that was behind his wish!_ Ben suddenly understood. Rachel's death had left Tommy scared. He was anxious that Ben might think him redundant, someone who ate at his table but didn't pay back in any way.

"Tommy, I don't feed you because you work here. You are my boy."

Ben put a hand on Tommy's shoulder to drive home his point. He saw Tommy's face go all stubborn. Ben knew the boy. There was no reasoning with him when he was like this.

"You are not my father," Tommy said.

"No, I'm not," Ben had to admit. Then he nodded. "All right. I'll tell John that you will be working here during the summer. But once the leaves start to fall, it's back to school for you!"

Tommy's face said clearly 'We'll see about that', but Ben knew what he was doing. Tommy was clever, and he had a gift with numbers. Ben would see to it that come winter Tommy would be back at school.

 

"John..."

"Boss?"

"Something about Tommy... he says he wants to work on the ranch, earn his keep now that his mother is dead."

John knew his boss, and he knew that there was a meaning hidden between the lines. He quietly waited what Ben had to say.

"I've told him _you_ will give him men's work from now on."

John frowned. "That really what you want me to do, boss?"

"Aye," Ben nodded, "and you will chase him, John, so that he can't keep his eyes open for dinner. Teach him, John. Teach him that it's better to go to school than do men's work."

John chuckled and nodded. "Don't worry, boss. I'll teach him, for sure."

"Somethin' else..." Ben started, his voice much softer now. "Can you take care of Lilly? I'll be in town. Need to get away for a few hours."

John just nodded and watched as his boss left for the corral to get his horse Ribbon.

 

 

 

“That’ll be fifty-two dollars and fifty cents for the whole month. Are you sure you want to stay so long, Mr. Fairbanks?” Don Burns asked.

The man in front of him looked posh – spruced up with expensive clothes and two brand-new carpet bags, but somehow he didn’t look genuine. Burns wasn’t sure what to make of the man. But he had asked for a room for a whole month, and he hadn’t even tried to barter for any discount.

“No problem,” his guest answered.

Josiah Fairbanks gave a practised smile and kept his thoughts to himself. _The price was outrageous – especially for a simple hotel in a small place like Indian Springs, but he didn’t mind._ He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a roll of dollar bills. He counted 53 dollars and placed them on the desk in front of him. He smirked to himself as he looked at Mrs. Burns. Her mouth had dropped open and her eyes were glued to the money on the table. _Word was sure to get around. The hotel owner’s wife would make it known to the town that there was a guest with money. It would give him the reputation he wanted..._

“And what brings you to Indian Springs, Mr. Fairbanks?” Mrs. Burns asked by way of conversation.

“A need to settle down, Ma’am,” Fairbanks answered. “I am weary of making money but having no wife to spend it on.”

 _Looking for a suitable wife in Indian Springs of all places? Why hadn’t the man gone to a flashy city for this?_ Donald Burns wondered. But he didn’t voice his thoughts. After all, the man had just paid the whole amount in advance. If he decided to leave after a few days, then that would be his problem. Burns took the man’s bags and carried them upstairs to his room.

“There are respectable women here,” Mrs. Burns stated, “but not many of them are still single.”

 _Of course not._ Fairbanks smiled at her naivety. He knew this. Respectable women in the West rarely stayed single. There were just too many suitors for them, and they could have their pick. In the West women who led a respectable life and did not have to go whoring to get by were a very sought-after commodity. _So, there weren’t many unattached women around? Oh, well. He had no scruples picking a woman first and ensuring afterwards that she be single..._

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Burns,” a voice behind him said.

“Miss Hargrove!” Mrs. Burns exclaimed, immediately changing her demeanour to the artificial ‘lady-like’ behaviour she always assumed when with the schoolteacher.

Her husband Don Burns might be a bore – an unrefined frontier man and as such one of the products of the Wild West – but Miss Hargrove reminded Mrs. Burns that she, Eliza Burns née Bouvier, had once grown up in Charleston, and that she had once belonged to a family of name, class and real estate!

And, furthermore, it never hurt to be friendly with a woman like Miss Hargrove. She had a very high standing in the town community and was on friendly terms with the Reverend. And she was the leading lady of the ‘Circle of Christian Women’ that set the moral standards in town...

At Miss Hargrove’s greeting Josiah Fairbanks turned – and beheld the woman of his dreams: a still girlish face, framed by black curls and a well-rounded feminine body. The haughty look on the woman’s face spoke of class... the class he had searched for in vain in cities like Dodge City and Abilene.

Marguerite Hargrove cast a quick look at the elegantly-clad man in front of her.

_The man’s look was so smitten and his stare so unwavering, it was almost insolent. Insolent but also... flattering._

Marguerite Hargrove gave a short nod in the man’s direction, then she passed him by and handed Mrs. Burns a book.  “This is the book I spoke of, Mrs. Burns.”

“Oh, Miss Hargrove. I would have been glad to pick it up. You didn’t have to go through all the trouble of bringing it!”

“No trouble at all, Mrs. Burns. I was just passing by.” Marguerite Hargrove smiled her most benevolent smile. _She would never allow anyone to pay a surprise visit to her home – her home was much too modest to be opened to public scrutiny._

“Good bye.” With a smile at Mrs. Burns and a slight nod in the direction of the hotel guest, Miss Hargrove turned and left, satisfied with her performance and sure that – again – she had made quite an impression.

 

 

 

It was only a week after Rachel's death when an unexpected visitor arrived at the Horseshoe Ranch: Mrs. Benson, a widow in her fifties. As it turned out, Doc Martens had approached her and had asked her to help Ben Warner out with the task of caring for two children while the family was getting used to being without a mother.

Ben growled inwardly, but didn't object. Even with John’s help it was hard having to put food on the table or tend to Lilly or straighten out Tommy while at the same time running a ranch.

Already Sam, the ranch hands' cook, had been ordered to provide all their meals. But there was no one to do the laundry, clothes weren't mended, and the house would eventually need a good scrub-down...

Ben heaved an inaudible sigh. Mrs. Benson wasn't a welcome addition to the ranch. She was a dried-up old woman, aged only fifty-two. Her haggard and stern look spoke eloquently of the fact that she had been and still was depriving herself of the good things in life. In Ben's opinion, that was all right if it suited her, but he didn't want Tommy and Lilly to lack for anything, and he certainly didn't want Lilly to have to endure any more 'hard lessons'.

Truth be told he would have preferred to have a more life-affirming woman come to the ranch to take care of Lilly, but the type of woman he had in mind wasn't available for hire. Indeed, that type was encountered rarely enough in life. Of all the women he knew in Indian Springs only Mrs. Miller, the grocer's wife came close. Ben would have offered her money to work for them, but he was sure the mere thought was in vain. Being a respectable - and married - woman, she would never contemplate making herself the victim of the gossip-mongers in town by coming to his ranch. Money or not, they would inevitably make up a juicy story about their relationship.

So instead of the laughter-loving, vivacious woman Ben wanted as a companion for Lilly, they had to make do with a woman who was disappointed by her experiences in life. Mrs. Benson was acting as if the whole world had to make amends in order to be accepted into God's bosom. Her facial expressions went from serious to sour and back to serious again. But she provided three good meals a day, she mended their clothes and scrubbed the floors, and every now and then she would even bake a cake. Her only comments, though, were those of religious piety, and it seemed to Ben that her major interests seemed to be a clean house and well-behaved children. He couldn’t deny that she was a good worker, though, but she bustled around without ever taking any true interest in either of them, and so everybody ignored her as much as possible.

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Not a peaceful home

For Tommy, although he was working on the ranch now, it was almost as if life was 'back to normal' – except that it was Mrs. Benson now who provided the meals and the clean shirts.

Lilly, too, felt very much the same – 'back to normal' - but in her case this wasn't pleasant at all. Just like her mother Mrs. Benson seemed to chase after her constantly, trying her utmost to bend her to her will and mould her into an 'obedient little girl' – whatever that was in her opinion.

Lilly was prevented from being with Ben and John during the day on account of the men 'being busy', and she wasn't allowed to go into the stables all by herself for fear 'a horse might hurt her'.

In the beginning Lilly had run out of the house and into the stables to get the help of Ben or John, but neither objected to her being with Mrs. Benson instead of them. In fact, they were both glad to have Lilly out of their way. They suddenly realized how much more work they could do without a small child constantly tailing them and demanding attention. Lilly was on her own again, and her struggles against Mrs. Benson's regime grew daily.

 

 

"I'm not mucking out any more stalls!" Tommy threw down the fork.

"Tommy, I don't care if you are Mr. Warner's son or not. I am the foreman of this ranch, and you _will do_ as I say!" John could be very threatening if he chose to be.

"Give me a break, John! I've been mucking out stalls all day yesterday, and Sam and Matt aren't doing anything!"

Tommy knew that his complaint was based on very shaky ground. Sam was the cook; his job was to feed the ranch hands, not to do stable work. And Matt...

"Matt is still recovering from having his hand broken, you know that!" John thundered. "Your job is to muck out the stalls. The sooner you get to it the earlier you're done! And then you can help Jason turn the hay in the hayloft. _Then_ you can help brush down the horses in the corrals outside and take them inside and feed them. – And if you're not okay with this, you can walk!"

"Fine! I'll walk!"

Tommy turned and walked out into the open where Ben was checking on a lame mare.

"Dad..."

"Not now, Tommy." Ben had heard their quarrel, and he was in no mood to placate Tommy.

"But Dad..."

"What?"

Ben spun around and fixed Tommy with a stare that told Tommy he was not willing to put up with any nonsense.

"I want to do other work than muck out the stalls."

Ben nodded dismissively. "All right. We need plenty of wood for the winter. I already told Richard. From tomorrow on you two can take the wagon up to 'Silver Wood' and fell trees and get them here."

Richard was known to be a lazy hand. The jobs he did were done well... but in double the time it usually took.

"It's only July!"

"Yeah... well... you won't want to do this in December, would you? It'll take you at least a week to fell enough trees and get them here. You are not a grown man, so it’ll take you longer to chop them up and stash them. And the wood has to be dry, too. The sooner it's done the better."

 

 

Three weeks later Tommy came in for dinner, looking like he had for the past three weeks: dirty, sweaty, dishevelled.

"Done it!" he panted. He put the axe beside the door and sank into a chair, relieved to grasp his spoon and to start on the soup that Mrs. Benson put in front of him.

Ben nodded. "Good. Then tomorrow you can clean the chicken coop."

"What?" Tommy almost choked on his soup.

Ben looked up. He was completely aware that Tommy hated tending the chickens in any way. Having to clean their coop was, in Tommy's opinion, the lowest work anybody could be assigned.

"You got no ears?" Ben asked indignantly.

"Why you're picking _me_ for the job?"

"Somebody has to do it."

"Why me?"

"Simple. Everybody else has work to do. It'll help Mrs. Benson, too. As it is, she has to walk through dirt and chicken shit to collect eggs for breakfast. – I'm sure, you wouldn't want to forego breakfast in the future, would you?"

One look at Mrs. Benson's satisfied expression and Tommy threw his spoon on the table and rose, towering over Ben, who continued to eat calmly and without the slightest sign of disturbance.

"No! You can do whatever you want, but I am _not_ cleaning the chicken coop!"

Now Ben raised his eyes slowly, fixing Tommy with an unwavering stare. It wasn't necessary for Ben to change his body posture, Tommy read his message loud and clearly: he would not give in. For a minute Tommy tried to stare back, but he knew he stood no chance. On intuition, he leaned forward towards Ben and placed his hands on the table, looking his father in the eye.

"Is your offer to send me back to school still standing?" he asked and was rewarded with a surprise reaction that Ben couldn't suppress entirely. First his eyes, then his lips heralded the smirk that soon settled on his entire face. All he did was nod.

"All right, you win," Tommy said, sat down again and resumed eating. _Whoever had to do the job in the end, he didn’t mind, but it would definitely not be HIM who had to clean the chicken coop!_

Ben's plan had worked out – and much sooner than he had anticipated. Obviously, working on the ranch wasn't quite what Tommy had believed it to be...

 

 

The little colt and its dam had finally been put out to pasture joining the other mares and their foals. It had taken them three days, and then the dams had accepted the newcomers in their midst. Now the little one could be with other horses, and more, he could run away from his mother if necessary.

Ben and John were standing at the fence watching as the little colt approached two foals which were play-fighting. Ben was more than sceptical. So far, the little animal had only had John to bond with. A man was hardly a good replacement for the equine company that a foal needed. Would the little one be able to find playmates among the other foals? Or would they, too, bite it off like its mother was still doing – simply because he hadn’t been growing up with them from the beginning?

Cautiously, the little colt stepped closer to the two contestants. They nipped and kicked at each other, but they were still clumsy and the fight was nowhere near the serious fights about ranking they would fight as youngsters. It was still looking rather cute seeing the ‘babies’ get up on their impossibly-high hind legs, trying to kick while learning to keep their balance at the same time. One of the fighters got lucky and landed a bite on the other’s withers, and the bitten foal shrieked in anger and protest and swirled around.

John and Ben laughed. _Those babies were still learning to coordinate their movements. So, maybe, they weren’t too far ahead of John’s foster foal._

Suddenly, in an attempt to join the playing, the little colt jumped his peers, and all of a sudden all three of them lay on the ground, stunned by what had happened.

A moment later they were jumping up, neighing, nipping at each other, and giving chase. The little colt was easily outrun by the other two.

“Looks okay to me,” John said.

They kept watching. The two older foals had circled the meadow before they sniffed the grass and took explorative bites of it. They kept close to each other – two young animals who would become buddies before long.

John’s little colt had been left behind. He stopped and sniffed the grass, too, but then his forelegs buckled, and exhausted from the chase he lay down, panting.

Ben and John exchanged a serious look. There was no need for Ben to comment: the little colt still had a long way to go.

 

 

"This girl needs firm guidance!"

"Mrs. Benson, she is _four years old!"_

Lilly was standing in the kitchen and crying.

_She had managed to drag a chair over to the shelves, then climbed on top of it to reach a jar of cookies that was up there. She had succeeded in lifting the jar carefully from the shelf and had balanced it in her small hands when Mrs. Benson had seen her. The moment Mrs. Benson’s high-pitched scream had hit Lilly's ears she had been so scared that she had fallen and hurt herself. Ben had been outside the house and had rushed inside when he had heard Lilly cry._

"Four years or fourteen, Mr. Warner. Children need to be taught early on!" Mrs. Benson was adamant.

 _Children also need to be cared for and loved_ , Ben thought, but he didn't say it out loud. His hands rested on the back of a kitchen chair, and he hunched his shoulders and let his head sink down, breathing deeply in order to calm himself. _How to explain to a woman like Mrs. Benson that Lilly needed love and laughter, not teaching and tears?_

When he finally looked up and opened his mouth Mrs. Benson beat him to it and delivered the line she had long wanted to say to him:

"Mr. Warner, I really think you should find yourself a wife."

Never in all his life had Ben Wade been shut up so efficiently. He was completely stunned and didn't know what to say. His look of absolute incredulity prompted Mrs. Benson to elaborate.

"A lot of women would be happy to be your wife," she added.

He made a scoffing sound.

 _They'd be happy to be the wife of a wealthy rancher, no more,_ Ben thought. He was well aware of the fact that nobody in town really knew him.

"Mrs. Benson," Ben finally managed to say, "a woman who can take proper care of Lilly doesn't necessarily have to be my wife."

 _Oops. That had been the wrong thing to say._ Ben could see it right away. After all, he spoke to a Christian woman. Mrs. Benson's face was ablaze with indignation.

"Mr. Warner, I don't think you will find an _honourable_ woman living on this ranch with you and your children without the proper vows being made."

Ben straightened up and took a deep breath. "Rachel and I weren't married. Are you saying she was a woman of... _loose morals_?"

Mrs. Benson blushed. She realized she had gone too far. If she had been honest with her employer she would have confirmed that this, indeed, was what she thought. But decency dictated that she did not give voice to her opinion – at least not to his face. In different company, however...

"Mr. Warner, I am only trying to help you," she said instead.

Ben was sure there was more to come, and he didn't have the patience left. Besides, he had to go into town to meet a representative from the army who wanted to check out his horses.

So in the end he just nodded to Mrs. Benson and left the house.

 

 

John spotted Ben standing at the corral.

"Something wrong, boss?" he asked.

Ben had been deeply in thought. When John addressed him, he heaved a sigh and rubbed his face in an unsuccessful attempt to shake off his melancholy. When he turned to look at John, John could see trouble in Ben's eyes.

"Mrs. Benson says I should marry."

Ben's voice was flat and without any of the sarcasm he usually used to deliver lines like this one. John knew his boss well enough to understand Ben was mentally exhausted. Ever since Mrs. Benson had come to the ranch and had taken over command of the house Ben had been spending more and more time and energy to solve her problems with Lilly.

"She says Lilly needs a mother," Ben continued. John nodded.

"She's got a point."

Ben turned and faced John fully, his hand resting on the top rail of the corral fence. "Lilly wants Mrs. Benson gone, because she is 'a witch'." At that John had to laugh.

"She's got an even better point."

His amused voice elicited a sad smile from Ben. He heaved another heavy sigh.

"Yeah... maybe so. There are some things that money can't buy, John," he said.

At that moment the door of the house opened, and Mrs. Benson emerged. She walked over to the chicken coop to collect eggs. A few seconds later the door opened again and Lilly ran out taking the path towards the river, no doubt in search of one of her usual adventures.

John and Ben looked at each other. Although Ben smiled at his daughter's unbroken rebellion, he shook his head. "She's gonna pay hell for that, and she knows it," he said to John.

John chuckled. "Like father like daughter. She won't give in, no matter what Mrs. Benson might do or say. You wouldn't either, boss."

Ben gave another sad smile, not quite sure if he was willing to admit to himself that John was right.

"You ride into town and meet that army major, boss," John said, "I'll take care of our little girl."

 _Our little girl._ The two men exchanged a look, and John turned to follow Lilly, for a moment placing a soft hand on Ben's shoulder in silent support.

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Miss Hargrove

Marguerite Hargrove had just finished correcting Tommy's homework. _The boy was remarkably intelligent, but a bit undisciplined. Ever since his return to school after his mother’s death he had experienced problems concentrating on his schoolwork. She wondered if she should speak with his... custodian about it._

Knowing that Ben Warner wasn't Tommy's natural father Miss Hargrove couldn't find it in herself to call him that. _No. 'Custodian' was the better word._

Marguerite quietly laughed to herself. She wondered if Ben Warner even knew the word or its meaning. Granted, he was one of the richest men in Indian Springs, but he definitely wasn't educated enough to hold his own against her.

Gracefully, she rose from the table and walked over to the fireplace, looking at the photographs displayed on the mantelpiece. The first was a photograph of her family, her parents, her two brothers, and herself.

_What a beautiful day it had been. It had been taken right before the men had left for war._

The second was a photograph of herself in front of the old oak tree in the back garden. It had been taken on her 17th birthday, a week before she and her mother had had to leave their estate.

She took up the third photograph. It was the largest and it was fitted in an expensive frame.

_September 1873. One month before she had left New Orleans for Indian Springs. The dress had only been rented, but even that had cost her a fortune. ... Her mother had died a fortnight before, and she had finally been free to leave this place._

Marguerite had always hated New Orleans. There, she was nobody. Apart from a fitting suitor who just never seemed to present himself, the only possibility of survival was to become the paid companion of a lady of status. And Marguerite didn't want to be chatting to an old lady and being subject to her whims because she needed the employment. She wanted to be the one doing the employing. So her only chance was to find a suitable man who could guarantee her a life as befitted her education.

 _But New Orleans wasn't the place for it. Especially with so many men dead after the war, there were just too many women available, and the men didn't pay sufficient attention to her, Marguerite's, refinement. So she would have to go West. There,_ she reasoned, _men weren't used to ladies, and in the smaller towns there were still less women than men. The wealthiest men would line up to pay court to someone like her. Even though it was the West, it wasn't all farming and working your fingers to the bone. Once she was the wife of a rich banker or a wealthy landowner, life would be better..._

_When she had arrived in Indian Springs where she had been offered the job of teacher she realized that there weren’t so many rich men in the West after all, at least not in the quiet little backwater town of Indian Springs. Only a handful of men could be called ‘wealthy’, and they were all married or had... ‘consorts’... like Ben Warner._

After mentally going through the roster of men available she put the photograph back in its place. _The matter was decided. Ben Warner was the only man in Indian Springs who had enough of both money_ and _land, and although he wasn’t nearly good enough for her, it would be him she would be marrying. Tomorrow she would contact him..._

 

 

The next day Tommy brought back the wish of his tutor for Ben to come and speak to her the following evening.

"What happened?" Ben asked Tommy.

Tommy just shrugged.

"Don't give me that look, Tommy. You do something I should bother about?"

His father could still be intimidating when he wanted to, Tommy realized.

"I don't know, Dad!"

Tommy sounded defensive, proof enough for Ben that something out of the ordinary was going on. But there was no use picking on the boy if he didn't want to tell. Tommy could be as stubborn as a mule. _Well... he would learn soon enough._

 

 

"Please, Mr. Warner, do sit down."

Miss Hargrove pointed to an elegant and fragile-looking chair and, reluctantly, Ben sat down.

She had dressed with particular care. Her purple gown and its white laces complimented her black curls. For once she didn't wear them tied up as befitted a stern school mistress but openly, held only in shape by two elaborate hair combs, and arranged rather prettily around her still girlish face. Marguerite Hargrove looked ravishing, and she knew it.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" she inquired.

Ben looked at the china that was already set on the table. _Tea? O my God,_ he thought. _Whatever it was that she intended to speak about, it must be serious. She had gone to a lot of trouble with this invitation._

Marguerite Hargrove smiled at Ben's reluctance. _Ah, she understood. After all, she knew the effect she had on men. Most of the men in town simply didn't admit to it. They preferred to lower their eyes and avoid her. Some more settled men – like the banker Mr. Jones - did murmur greetings and touch their hats, but they never dared to venture into a conversation with her, knowing that she was far out of their realm. And, naturally, she would never stoop so low as to completely enter their level._

Mostly, Miss Hargrove's relationships were with women, anyway. With _respectable_ women, of course. But even within the circle of those women she managed to make a certain impact. She could tell from how some of them tried to imitate her lady-like way of speaking, her particularly upright walk, and her refined demeanour – even if, naturally,  they would never come close to her ways...

"You wanted to talk about Tommy?" Ben interrupted her thoughts.

The woman was preoccupied with herself, he could see it. Her pouring his tea was a careful execution of artificial 'lady-like' behaviour. Ben wondered if she wanted to keep up this behaviour during his whole visit...

"Yes." Miss Hargrove gave him one of her brilliant smiles.

_The man was clearly uncertain of himself. His stocky, muscled frame sat in the delicate chair in her refined living room it had taken her the whole day to spruce up for the occasion and, naturally, a man like Ben Warner was out of place in such an environment. But he was the closest she could find to a fitting match in Indian Springs. Even though she had talked to one or two more 'refined' gentlemen, none of them had enough money or a place large enough to keep her in the style she wished. So it was Ben Warner to bait, and no one else._

Marguerite Hargrove took a small plate of cookies and placed it closer to Ben.

"Please, take a cookie, Mr. Warner. They are excellent," she added, then sat down opposite him.

Ben couldn't suppress a smile. _Of course they were excellent. They were Mrs. Miller's._ He loved Mrs. Miller's cookies just as much as his kids did.

"Tommy is a very talented boy," Miss Hargrove started, not quite sure yet how to handle Ben. After all, she needed to find out how he felt about getting married... that was, getting married _to her_... eventually...

 _What was she getting at?_ Ben wondered. _Was she nervous? Was that why she put up all this artificiality?_

"Tommy's told me you help him a lot with his lessons," he ventured.

Miss Hargrove smiled her brilliant, all-teeth-showing smile. "Well, that's only natural, don't you think, Mr. Warner? After all, I am his teacher. It is my privilege to discover the talents of my pupils and to encourage them to grow to their full potential."

With this she delicately picked up the cup of china and raised it to her lips, careful about sipping her tea as gracefully as possible.

 

_Oh God. Did she just need to babble on about her vocation as a teacher, or was there something else going on?_

Marguerite Hargrove could see his slight frown and smiled benevolently.

_She had intimidated him with her phrasing. After all, she mustn't forget he was just a simple rancher – albeit a rich one. But then, having money was not equivalent to having an education... unfortunately. She would have to speak more simply with him._

"And what, do you think, _is_ Tommy's potential?" Ben asked her, deciding to take the bait – at least for the moment.

Miss Hargrove put down the cup with an absolute minimum of clatter.

"I believe he could one day become a very fine gentleman, a gentleman both in education as well as in manners. I understand you buy books and have them sent over from a bookshop in Chicago – especially for him."

Ben smiled and relaxed somewhat. _So she wanted to talk about books. Maybe she thought about borrowing some of them._

"Yes. But it's not only for Tommy. I read them, too." And, carefully placing his own bait in front of her, he added, "there's much to be had from books that ordinary folk don't give you. Don't you agree?"

He flashed her one of his smiles, and all of a sudden Marguerite Hargrove felt a hot wave surge through her. _My, my... the man was attractive when he smiled like that!_

"Yes, I do indeed. Books can teach you so much about life."

_It was time to probe a bit further, to find out how much the death of... that woman... had affected him._

 

Marguerite Hargrove knew that Ben Warner hadn't been married to Rachel. The gossipmongers were quite clear about this, and the Reverend had confirmed it when she had asked him.

_Had Ben Warner been unwilling to marry Rachel because he felt she was not good enough for him? Or had she been more than a ‘consort’ to him? Had he actually felt attached to her? - She didn't intend to wait years and years for him to overcome his attachment to a dead woman. She didn't have that much time left!_

She picked up the teapot again and, seeing that Ben hadn't touched his own tea yet, poured herself another cup.

"Tommy is quite upset about the death of his mother," she said, slowly and studiously pouring her tea to avoid Ben's eyes. "The situation must be very hard on him."

After carefully modulating this phrase she turned and looked at Ben with what she hoped was a look full of pity. "As, indeed, it must be for you, too," she hastened to add.

Ben's gaze was serious, but he didn't react.

 _What was she getting at?_ He kept looking at her but couldn't quite make up his mind whether she was play-acting or had just chatted away and suddenly realized she might have ventured into difficult territory.

"One must get on with life," he finally said, not yet sure where she was headed but sensing that there was something she wanted out. So he took his eyes off her for a moment and concentrated on his tea – quickly deciding that one sip was more than enough!

 

_Oh, good. So she hadn't intimidated him too much, hadn't touched any sore spot. The man looked rugged and not as young, slender and elegant as the images of carefully groomed gentlemen callers she had dreamed up and hoped to encounter in her life. But his standing in the town community was high, and he was definitely a good catch. – What had he said? 'Getting on with life?' Yes, that was what she wanted from him._

"Yes. Even in the depths of mourning life goes on. And we can find the courage again to... fully face life."

She put on a different kind of smile this time, a smile that tried to say 'come hither', a smile she had practised in front of her bedroom mirror as a girl of seventeen, but never employed in a real-life situation. For a moment the unbidden thought of Ben's arms pressing her to his chest in a tight embrace and his mouth devouring hers rushed through her mind, and in its wake – absolutely incomprehensible to her - her body felt all warm and soft. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the image away and rearranged her features into the 'come hither'-smile.

When she turned to him with that smile it hit Ben. _She was trying to seduce him! No, 'seduce' wasn't the right word. She was trying to get him interested in her. Hers was the behaviour of a girl of fifteen who didn't know about life and kept chattering on while swishing her skirt to find out if she could entice the boy in front of her... Only the woman standing in front of him wasn't a girl any more. And obviously, life had never given her the chance to encounter men and speak freely with them._

He looked closer. What her face lacked in the telling, her body communicated anyway. At least to a man like Ben Wade. who was a master at reading people – including women.

Her former extremely tense body language had changed, and she was now moving more gracefully, albeit not really at ease. Her carefully made-up face had become slightly flushed, and it was easy to see what had been going on inside her mind. She was unaware of it, but she exuded a different smell, too. And her movements had a certain... lascivious quality to them. Ben took a deep breath.

 _So,_ that _was what this was about!_

 

He allowed himself to look at her with different eyes. _'Bosomy'... he had joked with Tommy some time ago. Yes, she displayed a nice pair adorning a well-curved body. Her face was almost too doll-like to make an impression on him. But this would be remedied by life in a few years. The first lines in the face of a woman were always the most interesting ones._

Ben wondered which lines Marguerite Hargrove would eventually develop, the laugh-lines around eyes and mouth or the lines that spoke of bitterness and regrets, those that grew on so many people and made a face look hard. _What would she look like when her shining black curls – at the moment softly framing her face – were streaked with gray? Indeed, what would her hair look like open and flowing loosely on a pillow, beneath his gaze? What would her body feel like to his touch?_

Whenever Ben had met Marguerite Hargrove, it had only been in the company of other people. He had only seen her move around restrained and measuredly, so much so that he wondered if she felt at home in her own body. For a moment he used his experience and imagination to strip her in thought.

_A tight bodice out of which her breasts overspilled, and her legs hidden in a pair of bloomers with only her feet, ankles, and calves visible. He was sure her skin was as white as was humanly possible. This was a woman who did everything she could to avoid the sun._

 

"It is how we face those challenges and tragedies in life that counts. And when we overcome those tragedies we grow – don't you think?"

He heard her talk but wasn't listening to the chatter.

_She was almost as tall as he was, no need to bend down to kiss her. His hand in her hair... pressing her face and mouth against his... his other hand sneaking into her bloomers to find a firm round buttock..._

"I for one find it admirable how you manage your personal situation. It must be hard for you, all alone..."

The word 'alone' triggered something, and Ben woke out of his reverie.

"I am not alone," he corrected, for the moment dismissing his fantasy. "I have two children and a whole ranch full of hands to keep me company."

His remark stunned her – but only a moment.

"Yes... well... your children. But, naturally, they can't give you _everything_ you need, can they? After all, they are _only_ children."

She was adding more cookies to the plate and re-arranging them, deliberately avoiding his eyes in order to be able to turn fully on him and fix him with a special look... that look of hers she had practised in front of her mirror all afternoon.

 

Ben's smile changed into a smirk at her words, and a quite lewd one at that. When Marguerite Hargrove measuredly turned to look at him, she caught the message his smile gave away, and a fierce blush heated her cheeks. Quickly, she averted her eyes. With slightly shaky hands she grabbed the tea pot and carried it over to the water pump above the sink, pretending she needed to prepare another pot of hot water.

 _That blush actually looked quite nice on her. Was the fact that she had avoided him just now a part of her role-playing, or was it that this time she really_ had _been out of her depth?_ Ben wasn't quite sure. _If she had only ever been a teacher she couldn't possibly know men – and their needs -_ that _well..._ Ben intended to find out.

Slowly he got out of the chair and walked right up behind her to where she stood at the sink.

"Have I embarrassed you?" he asked colouring his voice with that honey timbre he sometimes used on the saloon girls.

Another hot wave rushed through her at his words and his close proximity. For the first time Marguerite Hargrove became aware of the fact that she was alone in her house with a man... and a physically strong man as such.

_How could she have manoeuvred herself into such a situation? A situation her mother had always warned her about. How could she hope to keep up her reputation if it was ever suspected that anything had been going on...?_

 

Ben was watching her.

_Her mind fought what her body was signalling her. How old was she? 25? 28? She had probably never had a man, perhaps never felt the way she did now._

For a second he was toying with the idea to turn her and kiss her soundly just to see what would happen. _But should he really do this? - If she gave in to him, she would hate herself for it later. And_ – of this Ben was certain – _she would then make him regret any move on her for the rest of his life..._

Marguerite Hargrove was seized with panic. She felt nauseous. She realized that her knees wanted to give way. She could hardly keep upright. _Oh, no! She couldn't swoon now, right in front of him. That would never do! She had to answer his question, had to tell him that – naturally – he hadn't embarrassed her._

She heaved an audible breath.

_If only her bodice wasn’t so tight..._

"I _have_ embarrassed you." His voice was a rough whisper now. She swayed and he realized she was about to swoon.

 _These 'refined women'. Their imagination heated them up more than any reality ever could._ He chuckled soundlessly. _Must be a satisfying approach._

He thought about the concept for a moment.

_Imagination over reality. Perhaps a vivid imagination was indeed better than a frustrating reality. Especially in the case of the woman in front of him. For her, mere fantasies might be the better option. After all, a respectable woman couldn't try out a few cowhands just for fun without ruining her reputation forever. What was left to her was her imagination. - Maybe he, too, should try to use his imagination every now and then instead of having to ride all the way down into town to see one of the girls in the saloon... nah, fantasy wasn't enough._

Softly he touched her elbow, turned her around and guided her to sit on a chair. She lowered her head so she wouldn't have to look at him.

"I'll leave you now. No need for me to make a fool of myself – especially with such a beautiful and refined lady."

At the door he paused and turned. Handle in hand, he put on his hat. His finger tipped its rim.

"Thank you for the tea, Miss Hargrove."

 

 

 

 

 

 


	9. What is proper?

Tommy threw his school satchel on the floor with a flourish. "I'm not going back to that school!" he bellowed.

Ben and Lilly were already sitting at the table. Mrs. Benson was about to dish up the food.

"You're late. What happened?" Ben asked.

"Miss Hargrove!"

"Oh...? What's she done?"

"No, Dad. The question is what have _you_ done? She's gone all motherly on me!"

Ben smirked. _So she must have decided after his visit that he was still worth pursuing._

"Don't smile like that, Dad. It's _not_ funny! – As a matter of fact, what _have_ you done with her?" Tommy hurled at Ben, folding his arms.

Ben's eyes turned cold at Tommy’s provocation but Mrs. Benson was faster.

"Tommy! This is no way to speak to your father. A son must always show respect."

It was as if Rachel had spoken. She might have taken on the same tone of voice. Both Ben and Tommy stopped in their attack on each other and breathed deeply. And, each by himself, realized that they didn't want Rachel's patronizing ever to come back into their life. They exchanged a quick glance.

Ben rose from his chair.

"Tommy..." was all he said. As he walked out of the door into the sunset Tommy followed him.

They walked as far as the next corral. There they stood beside each other, their arms on the top rail. Tommy, who was still smaller than Ben rested his chin on his arm. Ben placed a foot on the lower rail, and Ben saw Tommy turn his head to look up at him.

_What was he worried about, for Heaven's sake? The boy was almost fourteen years old. Of course, he would make innuendos and drop sexual hints..._

Ben turned and beheld Tommy looking at him, then they both burst into laughter.

"Now you ask me what you want to know, Tommy. Can't have that conversation in front of the likes of Mrs. Benson," Ben said when they had stopped laughing.

"Miss Hargrove said what a gentleman you were."

"Oh...?" Ben asked, not quite sure what he was getting at.

"Yeah, she said you were 'chivalrous'. What's that mean, Dad?"

"Don't know, really," Ben had to admit. He had never come across the word himself.

"She always does that," Tommy continued, "you know, throwing words around and not explaining them. She thinks we all know them, and we don't!"

"Guess none of us has read enough books for her, Tommy," Ben said.

"Yeah, and sometimes she makes us do things, like make the girls stand up and learn how to 'cortsee'..."

"Curtsey..." Ben supplied the word.

"Yeah. Some of the girls are all for it. They feel they become 'ladies' just by acting like this. As if that makes 'em better'n us boys," he added bitterly.

Ben smiled and thought about Lilly. He very much wished for her to become a 'lady' one day as opposed to being a farm woman working her fingers to the bone. There weren't many options in Indian Springs for walking down the 'lady' path, though.

"Dad?" Tommy cut through his thoughts.

"Hmmm...?"

"What _have_ you done with Miss Hargrove when you visited her?"

Ben chuckled. "Nothing much, Tommy. She acted a bit strange, and I excused myself. Said I didn't want to embarrass her."

"I think she likes you."

"Think so, do you?" Ben asked, a twinkle in his eyes. _That might all be very well. But he couldn't quite see Miss Hargrove occupied in his kitchen – although the thought of her in his bed wasn't that bad..._

"Daddy..." Lilly's childish voice disturbed that thought. She stood in the doorframe, held back from joining him by Mrs. Benson. Ben could see that she was barefoot and already dressed for bed.

The last rays of the setting sun illuminated her hair. Her curls and the white nightshirt she wore made her look like a little angel. And quite the opposite of the dark, bosomy figure that had occupied Ben's thoughts only a few moments ago. In direct competition with the girl calling out for her father the voluptuous bosomy figure stood no chance...

 

 

The next morning – Ben and John were just talking about the work that needed to be done - Matt burst into the house. He had been sent to check on the horses which were located on the outer meadows.

"Boss!"

"What?"

"The horses on the North Meadow have escaped."

"Escaped?" Ben frowned. _How could they have ‘escaped’?_

"They're gone," Matt said.

"Have you circled the fence? Is it broken somewhere?" John asked.

Matt shook his head. "No. I just came here as quick as I could."

"John." Ben just nodded towards John, and the two of them saddled up their horses and left.

 

 

"Here it is!" John cried over to Ben. They had separated to circle the fence, and John had found the gap.

"Been done by man, not beast," John said, pointing to the wooden rails that were lying on the ground. Ben dismounted and looked closer. The nails with which the rails had been fixed had been pried loose, and the rails had been taken down. Ben knelt down beside the gap. In the grass the nails had been placed orderly in a small row. A warning?

Meanwhile John and Matt had started following the horses' tracks. Ben mounted and rode after them.

They found the horses not too far off, grazing in the sun. Something – or someone - must have spooked them and initially they had panicked and run off, luckily only to the edge of the nearby forest. Now they were scattered all over the place, nibbling on the grass and flowers and on some newly-sprouted trees.

The three men had no problem driving them back to the meadow.

"Best tell two men to come up here and repair the fence at once," Ben said. He waited till the men came and helped put the rails back in place. When he left, the horses were grazing as if nothing had happened.

 

 

 

 _There she was!_ Josiah Fairbanks heaved an audible sigh. _My, my... he was nervous! But then... she was sooo beautiful!_

“Excuse me.” He tipped his hat just as Miss Hargrove passed him by.

“Yes?” Her astonished look made him smile. _She was unaware of her stunning effect. She was like an innocent girl. Wonderful. She would make a perfect wife!_

Fairbanks took his hat off and elegantly bowed towards her. He had taken great pains with his appearance today. Not only was he freshly shaved and his hair oiled, he had also donned his most expensive suit – a suit that had made the whores in the brothels in Dodge City flock around him for it screamed ‘money’.

For a moment he devoured her with his eyes. It was only when the woman in front of him raised her chin and looked at him expectantly that he realized he had missed his cue.

A hot wave of embarrassment washed over him, and he fidgeted with his tie.

“Am... the name is Josiah Fairbanks.”

She gave a short, dignified nod at his introduction. “Yes, I know.”

“May I...” His voice sounded a bit husky, and he cleared his throat before he dared try again. “May I invite you to dinner, Miss Hargrove?” he asked.

Marguerite Hargrove was somewhat astonished. _Dinner?_

Quickly, she pondered the situation: _Josiah Fairbanks had made quite an impressive entrance when he had come into town. She knew he was rich – word had spread around. But so far, little was known about how he had come by his wealth. - Could she risk being seen with someone who might turn out to be less than a perfect gentleman?_

_On the other hand, here was another man who might be suited to become her husband. The very look of the man screamed ‘money’, and everyone knew that he wanted to buy property in Indian Springs but hadn’t been satisfied by what he had seen. Rumour was rife that he meant to build a huge mansion – tailor-made to his obviously extravagant wishes..._

She sighed. The decision wasn’t easy, not knowing his heritage and how he had come by his wealth.

Marguerite Hargrove took a closer look and as she took in the appearance of the man, she realized something else. _Josiah Fairbanks definitely dressed better than Ben Warner! And it would seem his manners were immeasurably more refined than the uncouth rancher’s. What to do?_

“Mr. Fairbanks,” she finally said, “I am sure you will understand that since we are not acquainted it is impossible for me to have dinner with you. So, unfortunately,” - here she gave a little smile to soften the blow – “I have to decline your very kind offer.”

And with a short, polite nod Marguerite gathered her skirts and walked on – aware of several pairs of eyes fixed on her every move.

 _Ahhh... what a sweet woman!_ After the initial disappointment at having been put down, Josiah Fairbanks couldn’t help feeling thrilled. _She didn’t just go with a man who offered her dining in style! No! This was a woman who needed to be courted properly._ And he revelled in the knowledge that once he had mellowed her she would be the perfect woman for him.

Josiah Fairbanks sighed in deep contentment. Contrary to his usual methods of pursuit of a ‘skirt’ as he referred to all womenfolk, he decided to think of a fitting way to approach Marguerite Hargrove again and pursue his goal. _But which way? – Perhaps he should speak to Mrs. Burns, the hotel owner’s wife. She seemed to be well acquainted with the lady and might know how to impress her._

 

 

 

"You know," Tommy said to Ben, "it would be enough just to ride into the desert, like we did when I was a boy."

"A day away from the ranch right now is not so easy, Tommy," Ben objected. "There's all kinds of work to do."

"Come on, Dad. Only for a day." Tommy almost whined.

Ben sighed. He looked at Tommy. _The boy was right. It had been ages since they'd done anything together. Tommy was growing into a coltish young man. Soon he would finish school, would want to test his strength against others; in a few years he would want to bed a girl. When was the last time they had had a proper talk - man-to-man? With Mrs. Benson around, really fruitful conversations were impossible. Just one day away... what the heck? John was around. He could deal with anything that might come up..._

"Nooo!" Lilly's scream was piercing and heartfelt. She twisted her body, escaped Mrs. Benson's grip and ran for the door. Mrs. Benson caught her and dragged her back by her arm.

"Daaaddyyyy!" Lilly screamed as loud as she could.

Both Tommy and Ben perked up. They both ran for the house and burst inside.

They saw Mrs. Benson drag a kicking and screaming Lilly to the bathtub.

When Lilly saw her father standing in the door, she gave up all struggling and fighting and let herself go totally limp. Mrs. Benson who wasn't prepared for this lost her balance and fell, hitting the floor hard. Lilly was free, and she ran to her father, who picked her up and hugged her to him.

"Mrs. Benson," Ben's voice rang through the room, made husky by a memory that was all-too present. "There is no need for Lilly to take a bath tonight."

Mrs. Benson slowly got up from the floor.

"But Mr. Warner,..." Mrs. Benson started.

"Leave her alone." His voice was louder than was necessary. He tried to set Lilly down but she clung to him and wouldn’t let go.

Tommy was watching the scene. He hadn't been witness to that fateful moment when Ben had caught Rachel as she had tried to hurt Lilly, but from family life afterwards he gathered that something grave had happened, and that it had involved a bathtub.

Mrs. Benson rubbed her arm. _Tomorrow she would have a bruise and all because of this naughty girl!_

"Mr. Warner, I assure you that a bath every now and then is necessary, even for a small girl her age. It is only proper that..."

Ben was keeping a tight leash on his temper, but the word 'proper' triggered something in him. "Mrs. Benson. Don't you worry about my daughter taking a bath. She will take a bath. But not now. And not like this." He turned, but then thought of something.

"Weren't you telling me that you wanted to go into town soon? – Why not go tomorrow? The children and I will take a day..." ...'off', he had meant to say, but that would mortally insult her, so Ben continued "...we will go for an outing. Just pack us a picnic tomorrow morning, and one of the hands can drive you into town."

Ben carried Lilly to his bedroom.

Ever since Mrs. Benson had joined them on the ranch, their personal ritual of undressing Lilly and combing her hair had been dropped. Lilly had been made to sleep in the adjacent bedroom with Mrs. Benson, and Mrs. Benson had taken over the dressing and undressing, the washing and the feeding. Ben had been reduced to the 'father' role of simply being the head of the household. _How could he have let something so important slip away? For the sake of having more time for the ranch, for the horses? Could they ever be more important than Lilly?_

When Ben put Lilly down in front of the bed, she walked over to 'her drawer' immediately. The soft cloth was still there, and she fetched it and gave it to her father while ripping off her clothes as fast as she could. And then, the two of them slipped into their game like there had never been a time without it.

 

 

The next morning – after she had packed a sumptuous picnic – Mrs. Benson climbed on the wagon and was chauffeured into town where she relished her break from ranch life and mingled with the 'Group of Christian Women' who had met to 'exchange the word of the Lord', but even more to exchange words about the people in town.

"I am sure all he needs is a wife," Mrs. Benson concluded her tale of the various tribulations she had had to go through since living on the 'Horseshoe Ranch'.

The Christian Women nodded vigorously. That would, indeed, be the solution. After all, it was well-known that a man who didn't feel the warm and also firm guiding hand of a woman would go wild. And nothing was more inexcusable than uncivilised behaviour – both in men _and_ children!

"I remember my Jonathan," one of the women confessed to the group. "I was away to tend to my sick mother. During her illness I lived at her place, and when I returned I was told by a friend that my Jonathan had been seen in the saloon, drinking beer and even playing cards!"

The other women gasped. Drinking and gambling... two of the most dangerous pastimes taken up by men who weren't sufficiently occupied.

"And all because I had not been there, holding my watchful eye and hand over him. My Jonathan would never have strayed otherwise. It's not the men's fault,” she continued, confirming knowledge that was well-established within the group. “They can't help it, you know. They are weak. It falls to us women to keep them in line. You can believe my words: any man who is not watched over by a woman will just go wild like an animal that is not chained."

Her words had a deep effect on Marguerite Hargrove. _If it was so obvious how necessary a woman was to guide a man's life, perhaps Ben Warner wasn’t as dangerous as he had seemed to her during their encounter. His ‘going wild’ was explicable, after all. Perhaps, with the right woman, he might turn out to be a docile man yet – perhaps even a gentleman. But: how to make him come to the same conclusion - that he lacked a wife, and that he should marry her, Marguerite?_

 

After the women's meeting Miss Hargrove decided to approach Ben Warner again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Father and son

"Where are we going?" Tommy asked when the wagon carrying Mrs. Benson into town was out of sight and Ben hauled Lilly up on Ribbon's saddle.

"Away," was all Ben said.

They didn't go far. Only as far as the river north of the house, actually. They rode upriver for a bit, then Ben stopped at a nice spot and dismounted.

"That all right for you two to take a bath?" he asked.

Tommy smirked. "So _that_ was behind your remark to Mrs. Benson. – Good idea," he then added. Forgetting everything he had ever learned about 'taking-care-of-your-horse-first' Tommy slid off his horse, ripped off his clothes and – with a roar - jumped into the refreshing water.

 

Lilly was itching to follow him, and she would have hurled herself after her brother fully clothed had Ben not caught her in time and stopped her. The river wasn't deep, the water just about covered Tommy's hips. But for Lilly it was a different matter; she couldn't swim yet. Itching with the need to imitate her brother she stood at the river bank and yelled out to him.

Ben took the saddles and tack off the horses and let them walk freely, knowing he could whistle Ribbon back to them any time he wished to. The other horse would rather search out the company of Ribbon and the humans instead of running off on its own.

Ben unpacked their food and stored it in the shade.

Meanwhile Lilly had already undressed herself, her clothes lying strewn on the river bank. She was itching to follow Tommy into the water but didn't dare to without a nod from her father. She hovered near the water, stepping from stone to stone, watching her brother.

A moment later Ben had undressed and picked her up. With his little girl in his arms he stepped into the cool water.

Lilly squealed with delight. While Tommy was diving for a fish he believed to have seen, Ben and Lilly were frolicking in the water. After a thorough diving while safely in her father's arms, Lilly squirmed to be free again. Ben put her down near the river bank where the water was shallow enough for her to stand. Then he playfully splashed water over her – again and again. Her squeals became joyful shrieks. It took her only a moment to pick up on the idea, and she soon paid her father back – drop by drop. With as much water as her little hands could stir up she heaved wave upon wave onto Ben as if her life depended upon it.

Tommy came back, a writhing fish in his hands.

"Here... makes a good lunch." Then he threw the fish onto the grass nearby where it writhed in a vain attempt to reach its element. Tommy didn't bother. He had already turned around and was wading deeper into the river again. "I'll try to find another one!" he yelled over his shoulder.

Lilly had observed his gesture and was watching the fish writhe in agony, her little eyes serious, drinking in the animal's frantic movements.

"Come, Lilly."

Ben held out his hand, she took it, and together they walked to the fish. Then Ben took his gun from the holster and with its handle clubbed the fish dead. Lilly looked at her father.

"We'll eat it later," he explained to her, and Lilly nodded seriously. She picked up the fish and carried it to the spot where Ben had placed the saddles and their food. Carefully she laid it down, gave it a pat and came back to Ben, a wide smile on her face.

As his little girl was running towards him naked, wet, her curls all plastered around her head, Ben's heart constricted, and once more he became aware of how much he had missed taking care of her all by himself. _What good was the role of 'head of the household', 'master of the ranch', or 'boss' when he didn't have enough time to do what he loved most, be with Lilly and watch her grow._

"Here's another one!" Tommy had walked up to them and dropped another fish on the grass. The fish was still alive, and immediately Lilly went for Ben's gun and held it out to Tommy in a silent order to club this fish to death as it should obviously be done.

"What's that for?" Tommy asked.

"It's for you," Ben answered instead. With a nod towards the fish he added, "Why don't you club that fish and then prepare both of them while Lilly and I go back into the river and wash?"

He took a piece of curd soap out of the saddle bag – it was the very same piece of soap that Rachel had used on Lilly not too long ago. With a knife he cut off a small piece, small enough to be held by Lilly's tiny hands. Then he held out his hand to Lilly.

"Come, Little Flower."

 

They walked into the shallow water. Ben handed her the small bit of soap and started washing himself with the bigger piece. Lilly imitated him clumsily, feeling very grown up. Like her father she tried to wash her hair and face with the soap but didn't quite succeed. She ran the soap over her body and enjoyed the feeling of the soapy layer on her skin. The instinct for play took over, and she dropped the soap and played with the oily film on her body, drawing images on herself with her fingers.

Ben watched her out of the corner of his eyes without giving anything away. His idea had worked out; Lilly would 'learn' about bathing in a positive way. It was no longer part of a terrible experience.

Smiling to himself, he was running the soap over his body. _Children weren't so different from foals. If you gave them the chance to find things out by themselves and in their own good time, the lessons they learned were lessons for life._

He was scrubbing away at his own body, washing his legs and his private parts while being discreetly watched by Tommy.

Ben was almost fifty now, a man still in his prime. His body, due to his constant physical work, was in good shape: hard, muscular, and devoid of the little belly he had sported as an outlaw and that had been a silent herald of his then-lazy life.

Tommy had observed Ben as he had played with Lilly in the water, and he was observing him now as he washed himself. Ben was standing in the shallow water near the riverbank; it ended at his thighs, and repeatedly Tommy caught glimpses of Ben's manhood. Comparing himself with his father, Tommy didn't quite know whether he should feel intimidated or not.

 

 

Later that day, when they all sat on the grass and ate the fish and the food that Mrs. Benson had prepared for them Tommy decided he wouldn't get anywhere with his thoughts if he didn't tell Ben.

"Dad?" he ventured into somewhat scary territory.

"What?"

"Remember when I told you about..." Tommy's voice died down. _Phew... it wasn't so easy to talk about these things..._

Ben looked up, made curious by Tommy's suddenly shy behaviour.

"About what?"

Tommy blushed. "Well... about my first... wet-dream."

Ben's eyes grew soft and he smiled. He nodded. "Yeah, Tommy, I remember."

_Of course, he remembered. The scene stood vividly before his inner eye._

 

_Tommy was lurking around the stable, almost tripping over a bucket. Something was wrong with the boy._

_"What's the matter with you, Tommy?" Ben asked, coming up from behind him. Tommy jumped at his voice, but he turned around obediently, guilt written all over his young face._

_"Well... are you gonna tell me or not?" Ben pressed him._

_And so Tommy told him about his dream, and about waking up and finding his trousers wet and the bed soiled. Ben just smiled and tousled his hair. He turned and took one of the halters hanging along the wall. Then he rummaged in a chest for a good soft brush._

_Tommy was confused. His mother's reaction had been quite different. But Ben's gesture seemed to say that it wasn't as bad as he feared it to be. Before Ben could walk away and leave him to his thoughts he spoke up._

_"Dad?"_

_"Hm...?" Ben asked without looking up from his work._

_"Does it mean I'm going to be ill?"_

_This question definitely made Ben look up._

_"Whatever gave you that idea, Tommy?" Ben asked._

_All of a sudden the look of fear and confusion that he hadn't seen on the boy's face for quite some time was back._

_"Didn't your mother explain...?" Ben started but then stopped. Of course not! Rachel wouldn't explain to him about... 'that' ... she would call it. Ben sighed. Up to himself to put it right. Thinking back on some of his erotic endeavours for quite a few minutes, he just stared in front of himself, smirking, lost in memory. Then he looked at the boy._

_"Sit with me, Tommy."_

_Tommy complied, and they both sat down on bales of straw, Tommy looking expectantly at Ben. How to start?_

_"One would think that as many horse matings as you have seen you would know by now what it is all about," he started on the subject._

_Tommy caught on immediately. "You mean I can mate girls now?" He hit the nail straight on the head. From the back of the stable came laughter at his words: Matt and Vince were mucking out the stalls and had caught his words. Tommy's face turned a dark shade of red. Ben laughed in good humour and nodded._

_Talking as straightforwardly and as openly as he had always done to the boy, Ben explained mating, reproduction and the facts of life to Tommy, using the horses as comparison._

_"So, it's the same for girls and boys, is it?" Tommy tried to verify what he had just heard._

_"Well... more or less," Ben said._

_"What's the difference?" Tommy asked. More laughter from Vince and Matt. Ben shot them a warning look but they wouldn't be silenced. Tommy's comments were just too funny._

_"Well... for one girls are softer and more fragile, Tommy. You can't rough-handle a girl like a stallion does a mare. And you need time, lots of time to make her ready for you."_

_"But can't they just tell you when they are ready?" Tommy asked. "Like the mares signal the stallions when they can mount."_

_"You are a man, not a stallion, Tommy. And a girl is not a mare. You don't 'mount' a girl."_

_"Well... what's the difference?" Tommy asked._

_"You've got hands, boy. Hands to touch a woman, to caress her, to warm her blood so that she gets wet and open for you..." Tommy listened, enraptured, waiting him out._

_"A woman's body is a wonderful mystery, Tommy. And each woman is different. Some of them are small and slender, some of them round and soft like cushions you sink into. Their skin, their hair, their smell, the way they react to your touches... they are all different. And the best part of it is to give a woman pleasure. To see her give herself completely over to you."_

_"But if they are all different, how do you know what to do?"_

_"You don't. You have to find out with every woman anew.”_

_Phew! That sounded really complicated – and like a lot of work rather than actual fun!_

_"And the touches women give you back are different, too, Tommy."_

_"Can't you just tell them what you like and they do it?"_

_Ben laughed. "That's whores you are talking about, boy. If you pay a whore to lie with you, then she will do what you want because you pay her. That's not what I meant. One day, you will want a wife. Someone who hugs you because she wants you, not your money. Someone you can stay with, not have to get up and leave after a night’s pleasure."_

_"And the girl who wants you won't run off? Not ever?"_

_Ben wondered what was on Tommy's mind. Was he thinking of his mother running away from Frank Dalton? Ben wasn't sure. - How did you make sure a girl stayed with you? Thinking back to his time with Jennifer, Ben knew that you weren’t always in control. But how to explain this to Tommy? Most young men chose a girl, married her, and that seemed to be reason enough for the women to stay with their men. It was a concept the outlaw in him had never understood; that there were people who didn't take their bags and rode off when they had had enough._

_Tommy was still looking at him. What had he asked? ... Oh, right. ‘How did you make sure a woman didn't run off?’_

_"Well, you have to pick the right one for that."_

_"How do you know which one to pick? How do you know which one is the right one?"_

_Don't know, boy, I never found mine,_ Ben thought again, but he wouldn't voice the words.

 _"You'll know when you meet her, Tommy,"_ was all he said. With that he got up and left the stable...

 

 _It had been over a year ago, but yes, he remembered..._ Sitting at the river beside Tommy and Lilly, Ben smiled at the memory. The boy's self-confidence had taken a huge leap forward after their talk. He had even become a bit cocky, which hadn’t been bad considering Tommy's normally rather shy behaviour.

That moment had also marked a new step in their father-son-relationship. More and more often, Ben had backed Tommy against his mother, supporting Tommy’s struggle for freedom, trying to push him towards independence.

Ben looked into Tommy’s eager face. _For a while Rachel's death had thrown him off course, but he seemed to be coming along now. However, Tommy was only thirteen, and he was just beginning to find his way in the world of men._

 _So he wanted to talk about his wet-dream._ Ben wondered what was on the boy's mind.

"What about it, Tommy?" he asked.

"Well... I'm almost fourteen years now," Tommy started, overstating his age somewhat, then adding, “when can I have my first girl?"

_He should have known it was coming, but the image of the scrawny little boy he had once encountered in the train station asking such a question still shook him a bit. Their first encounter... had it really been five years ago?_

"Tommy, you turned _thirteen_ four months ago..."

"So...?"

"That's a bit early, don't you think?"

"How old were you?"

"Seventeen," Ben answered smiling, and the scene flashed through his mind.

 

_He had just arrived in Dodge City with some money in his pockets – just about enough to buy his first whore, the cheapest in the saloon. But it had been a good experience. The woman had been nearly forty years old, had seemed more like a mother to a seventeen-year-old than a lover but she had taught him well. And she had fed him through his first days when he had spent all his money on her and not been able to find any work._

 

Tommy looked expectantly at Ben. He was hungry for details. Lilly had finished her apple and crawled on her father's lap. Intuitively, Ben's arms turned her around and placed her so she was held like in a safe little crib. Absent-mindedly he began stroking Lilly's hair.

"It was in Dodge City," Ben explained to Tommy. "I didn't have much money, and I was hungry and tired, but I decided food wasn't so important. I wanted to have a girl."

At that Tommy smirked. _Yeah, he often felt like that, too._

"The girls all laughed in my face when I showed them my seven dollars. They didn't lie with a man for less than 10 dollars."

"10 dollars!" Tommy shouted. For him, that sum was outrageous.

"Yeah, that's Dodge City for you. Man needs a lot of money in a city like that," Ben said.

"What did you do?"

"Tried to find work to get me some money, but couldn't. In the end there was a whore who accepted my seven dollars." Ben smiled at the memory. _The woman had fallen in love with his unruly chestnut hair and the stubble of beard he had sported when he had first come to her. Even later that night when he had been falling asleep he had felt her caress his hair and stubble._

 

Ben's soft smile of memory wasn't lost on Tommy. His father didn't offer any more information, but Tommy could see that the experience must have been good... oh, so good!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. Mrs. Benson

When they returned from their outing, it was dark. Lilly had fallen asleep in Ben's arms. Ben dismounted with Lilly in his arms and handed the reins to Tommy.

When he carried Lilly up the stairs, she clung to him, and he decided to place her in his own bed and to sleep beside her that night.

Tommy lay in bed deeply satisfied with their talk. Even though Ben hadn't provided any details of his first sexual experience, he felt like a wide and exciting road was opening up to him. That night he dreamed of beautiful women touching his body. And he filed the thought of having his first girl away in his brain for his 17th birthday.

Late that night Lilly squirmed and thrashed in her sleep. She kept muttering 'no, no, no...,' and her little hands were trying to fend off someone. Ben didn't know who she was fighting. _Was she reliving an old scene with her mother, or was it perhaps Mrs. Benson she kept fighting at night?_

He woke her. When Lilly beheld her father, she sighed in relief, cuddled up against him and fell asleep again. Ben decided there and then that he would get rid of Mrs. Benson. But how?

 

The opportunity presented itself a few days later.

Mrs. Benson was hanging the laundry on the washing lines behind the house, and Lilly was playing beside her. There were a number of insects and other crawlers lurking under stones and in the soil, and Lilly started to collect them and put them all into a hole she had dug in the dust. The winged creatures escaped easily enough, but the worms and bugs were trapped and ran around in the hole, trying to escape their confinement and their fellow-inmates. It was all very exciting, and Lilly kept adding animals and watching them for quite some time. A few of the crawlers got away, and Lilly watched them run or wriggle off into safety. She was spellbound.

"Lilly!" Mrs. Benson had finished her task and wanted her to come back into the house with her. There were only a few earthworms left in the hole, and so Lilly picked them up and carried them inside in order to continue playing with them.

"What are you carrying, Lilly?" Mrs. Benson asked, and when Lilly raised her hands, proudly displaying her treasure Mrs. Benson started screaming.

"Put them away! Make them go!" Her hand gripped Lilly's little wrist and she tried to shake the animals out of her fist. But Lilly held on tight to her worms, squishing them.

"It's disgusting. Let go!" Mrs. Benson only shook harder.

 

Out of nowhere Ben appeared. "What's the matter here?" he asked, his face dark with looming anger, his voice threatening.

"Nothing, Mr. Warner," Mrs. Benson answered him. "Just something Lilly needs to learn."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"The girl has touched filth again."

Ben had been watching both Lilly and Mrs. Benson from the stable door and he had delighted in observing his little girl all concentrated on whatever it was she had found.

"Filth?" he inquired.

Mrs. Benson raised Lilly's arm to show him, almost lifting the little girl off her feet.

"See? She has been playing with soil and dirt again. It's not healthy to touch those slimy animals!"

And in a renewed fit of disgust she shook Lilly's hand again in an attempt to shake the 'filth' off her. Lilly gave a sound of pain. It was enough to make Ben snap.

"Enough!" he bellowed.

Shocked, Mrs. Benson stopped and both she and Lilly stared at him. It was rare for Ben Warner to raise his voice, and it was always advisable to be careful around him when he did.

"Let go of her arm." The words were uttered so softly, they worked even better on Mrs. Benson. She immediately let go of Lilly. _Again, he had made her back down in front of the girl. No wonder this girl didn't accept her authority._

Mrs. Benson took a deep breath and then assumed an expression of calm discontent. "I am doing the best I can to provide for you and your family and to teach your daughter," she said. "Since you don't have a wife, someone has to."

At her words Ben gave a mirthless laugh. _A wife? What next? Church on Sunday? – Oh, yes, right. Mrs. Benson was one of the Christian women. Next thing, she would try to match him up with someone._

"There are suitable women in town who would be more than willing to be your wife, you know," she informed him.

Struck dumb Ben just looked at her – a look that should have warned her to keep silent. But it didn’t.

"Mrs. Evans, for example," Mrs. Benson dropped the name of her personal favourite.

"Alice Evans?" Ben asked incredulously.

Ben had visited William Evans twice not too long ago. The Evans family needed money, and - not being able to pay the bank’s interest rates - William and Alice Evans had asked him for a loan which he had agreed to. _Had people – as usual – jumped to one of their ridiculous conclusions?_

"Mrs. Evans is a very suitable woman. She is of the right age and she knows how to handle children – especially growing boys like Tommy," Mrs. Benson continued. "And it would be good for Lilly to have a model like her..."

"That's enough!" Ben bellowed. "My relationship with Mrs. Evans is not your concern! Just like my _private_ life is not your concern!”

This had been too frank. Ben could see it the moment his words were out. Mrs. Benson would like nothing better than go into town and repeat every single word to whomever was willing to listen.

Ben felt like he could kick himself. _What had he been thinking about, making a remark such as that? He couldn’t afford to raise suspicion. He had to lie low! If people ever dug deeply enough, they might find out who he was! All that would be left to do then would be to pack Lilly and Tommy and run for his life!_

At her employer’s harsh words, Mrs. Benson’s face took on an air of dignified insult. "Mrs. Evans is a _decent_ woman, Mr. Warner. I am sure she would not have liked to hear what you just said.”

 _Oh, no. She was referring to his remark of the ‘private life’. She was bound to spread rumours around,_ Ben could see it. _That bait was just too juicy to refuse!_

Mrs. Benson took a deep breath. _How could she make Ben Warner understand that every man needed a woman to steer his life into the right channels?_

“Mrs. Evans is an eminently suitable wife. She would have a calming and very wholesome influence on the wild men you call ranch hands, on your family, and especially on that wild, hoydenish...”

This time Mrs. Benson looked into her employer's face and interpreted his look correctly.

She stopped short and knew; her time in his presence was up. With as much dignity as she could muster, she turned and entered the house to retrieve her shawl and bag. A moment later she came out again.

"I will send someone to fetch my things," she said.

"Not necessary, Mrs. Benson," Ben said, "take your time packing. John will drive you back into town."

Ben fetched his wallet from his room. He grabbed all the cash that was inside – it was more than three times Mrs. Benson's wage – and handed it to her without a word. Then he picked up Lilly, who hugged him tight – earthworms and all - and walked into the stables to cool off.

An hour later Mrs. Benson left the ranch.

 

 

With Mrs. Benson gone, tasks were re-distributed. Sam, the ranch hands' cook, provided their meals again, and Ben and John did the necessary chores in the house, blackmailing Tommy into helping them.

When Ben was driving into town and shopping for groceries, he usually combined this with a visit to one of the girls at the saloon, although he rarely stayed longer than an hour or two. Although John took care of Lilly like he were her father, with his little girl still having nightmares Ben didn’t dare spend the nights away from home.

One of the regular purchases Ben made in the grocery from now on were cookies.

Lilly _loved_ cookies. And Mrs. Miller's cookies were simply first class. In order to make sure that she didn't get sick by eating too many of them, and also because he didn't want to run the risk of Lilly ever hurting herself again while hunting for cookies, Ben decided to make a game out of it.

In the morning – way before Lilly woke up – he would hide two cookies in the cookie jar and place the jar somewhere easy for her to see and open.

Lilly loved the game.

As soon as she woke up in the morning she scrambled out of bed, got dressed all by herself and carefully walked down the stairs. Very often she would already see the jar from upstairs and head straight for it. Sometimes Ben had hidden it under the table or near the door, or on a chair, and then Lilly would walk around until she had found it. She always brought the jar to one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace. Then she would climb onto the armchair, open the jar and relish her cookies, feeling very grown up.

Ben never had to worry about Lilly getting into trouble in the house. However long it took him to come into the house to make breakfast she always sat in front of the fireplace, mimicking her beloved father resting there after a hard day, her little mind dwelling on wondrous things Ben's mind couldn't even begin to contemplate.

After breakfast, Lilly usually followed Ben like a shadow. She watched him at work, she observed how he was with people, and she learned how infinitely more patient and tender he was with his horses. She poked her nose into everything and asked. He explained and demonstrated. She tried and failed. He comforted her, and she tried again and succeeded – and they both revelled in her successes.

Their relationship grew closer and closer to the point of becoming symbiotic.

 

 

But even the best father needs a break from fatherhood every now and then.

After a near-accident with a particularly spooked horse, a serious fight among the ranch hands in their quarters, and Lilly refusing to fall asleep for longer than usual, Ben decided it was time for some time off. Summoning John to watch over Lilly and Tommy, he made for the saloon.

Sandy’s eyes lit up as Ben entered, and a few minutes later they were in her room with a bottle of whisky.

Sandy could feel his impatience that evening; she knew him well by now. Ben Warner wasn’t the man to hurry things – and certainly not his pleasure – but tonight he was restless. Without the usual flirting and teasing he had simply undressed himself and waited on her to do the same.

But Sandy was in no hurry. She still wore her bodice and bloomers when she started to take out her numerous hairpins. Ben watched her, and she could see that he was becoming irritated.

“How many of those do you wear, girl?” he asked exasperated.

Sandy laughed. “No patience, this man!”

Ben gave a frustrated growl. “Just because I pay you for the whole night doesn’t mean you have to take the whole night to get ready, Sandy.”

At that she laughed again, carefully extracting another pin from her curls. “I’ll make you a bargain then.”

“What?”

“For each hairpin I’ll give you a kiss.”

Ben raised his eyebrows. “That's a bargain?”

“Well, isn’t it?” Sandy asked while her hands were busy removing more pins.

Ben simply wasn’t in the mood to flirt. He gave a sigh of resignation.

Finally, Sandy had pulled out all the pins and counted them. “...ten... eleven... twelve. There’s twelve of them.”

“Hm... twelve kisses. Do I get to say where I want them?” Ben asked smugly.

“No.” Sandy smiled. “But I'm not heartless.”

Ben’s lips twitched. _Well, whatever she was up to... it better be good._

Sandy manoeuvred him towards the bed and made him sit down. Then she stepped between his opened knees, and his hands found their way to her hips.

Bending over him she kissed his forehead.

“One...” she murmured, and her hands stroked his hair out of his face and behind his ears.

That one gesture took the urgency away and calmed Ben down. _The way she did that felt real good. And what was the hurry anyway? They had the whole night._

With a soft smile Ben looked up at her, and she bent to kiss his right eye.

“Two.”

Then his left eye. “Three.”

And his mouth. Softly, just a short peck, so he couldn’t prolong the kiss. “Four.”

Again, her hands were in his hair, her fingertips massaging his neck and the back of his head.

With a moan of pleasure Ben let his head fall back into her hands. Sandy continued massaging while her lips kissed all over his throat. “Five.” “And six.” “And seven.” “And eight.”

“Hmmm...” It sounded like a purr. The hands on her hips let go and moved behind her back to embrace her and draw her closer. Unfortunately, this made it harder for Sandy to bend and kiss along his chest which had been her original plan.

Instead she snuggled into his embrace; his face buried between her breasts, and her hands stroked over his shoulders. She could feel him harden against her thighs.

She bowed her head; her mouth was in his hair, and she gave it a soft kiss.

“Nine.”

The purr continued.

Sandy straightened. “Lie down on the bed, Ben.”

 

Ben complied – but he lay down on his belly, smiling to himself for having surprised her.

And surprised she was – any other man would have proudly displayed his erection, but not Ben Warner. He played hard to get. _How typical!_

She bent over him, and her hand stroked along his spine until it rested in the hollow above his buttocks. She grasped his hips with both hands and bent down, planting her next kiss exactly where her hand had rested a moment ago. “Ten.”

She felt him shudder, and he moved on the bed, as if lying on his belly had become uncomfortable.

Tenderly, she caressed his buttocks, first the one, then the other. Then her hand sneaked between his legs, where her fingertips could reach his balls.

His legs parted willingly, and she played with his balls until he had to shift again... _did she imagine it, or was he getting impatient?_ Sandy grinned. _Two more kisses to give..._

He felt her move on the bed. He had been sure the two kisses would be to his cheeks, and he was unprepared for the feeling when Sandy suddenly dived down between his legs and kissed his balls. He stiffened, surprised, and not quite willing to show her _just how much_ he had enjoyed that.

“Eleven...”

Her voice had taken on a certain expectation as if she were waiting for something. He could hear the tease in it. When nothing further happened he groaned and half-turned, looking at her expectantly. Even more than her actual kisses, her methodical counting of them had fired him.

Finally, his member was within her reach. Sandy smiled broadly and moved to lie beside him on the bed, her head near his hip. She looked up into his eyes. “Twelve,” she solemnly declared, and bent her head, kissing his member and taking him in her mouth.

Ben fell back on the bed with a groan that completely eliminated the smile that had begun to show on his face. He loved how she had played that! And he loved even more the game she was playing now...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	12. How to snare a man

 

 

 _"I should be pleased to entertain you and Thomas_  
for tea on Sunday afternoon, 5 p.m.  
Marguerite Hargrove"

 

Ben looked at the invitation skeptically, wondering what it was about, but he took some consolation in the fact that Tommy was invited, too. _Perhaps this time Miss Hargrove would want to talk about Tommy's schooling?_

 

 

_There was nothing quite as uplifting as a Sunday sermon._

Marguerite Hargrove sat in the first pew and the choral to the glory of the Lord flowed from her lips, flooding her with a feeling of strength and determination.

_Later this afternoon Ben Warner would visit her. But this time she would be better prepared for him. No more hot flashes because his voice purred at her, no dizziness because of a too tight bodice... instead she would display her usual calm and dignified demeanour. - Yes, he was quite an impressive man, but she would remain steadfast and pursue her aim, to find out whether or not he was willing to marry and let a woman rule his life!_

When the last choral was finished, everybody slowly made their way out of church.

 

“Good morning, Miss Hargrove! Did you enjoy the service?”

Marguerite Hargrove turned and beheld Josiah Fairbanks. For a moment, she blinked in surprise; the man in front of her was as close as anyone had ever come to her image of the perfect ‘gentleman caller’.

Fairbanks had spoken confidentially with Mrs. Burns. It had been Mrs. Burns who had informed him of Miss Hargrove’s close bonds with the church and her background as a lady from the Old South. He had reasoned that paying court to her outside the church in front of practically all the town would certainly leave an impression.

“I was most impressed by Reverend McCarthy’s sermon, weren’t you?” he asked and, still somewhat confused, Marguerite Hargrove nodded.

Hat in hand, Fairbanks’ hand touched her elbow and turned her slightly towards a carriage nearby.

“I thought you might want to take advantage of the sunshine and go for a picnic?”

“A picnic?”

“Aye.” Fairbanks turned his hat in his hands. “The days are still warm enough to sit on the grass. I know a nice place not too far from town, near a river...”

“Mr. Fairbanks, I am sorry but I cannot accept your invitation.”

Marguerite hoped that her choice of words and her tone would indicate the true meaning behind her remark and would teach him once and for all to do this properly. _After all, how could she accept? What would happen if she were to be seen by the whole town leaving in Josiah Fairbanks’ company without anybody acting as chaperone? It was simply unthinkable._

Unfortunately, Fairbanks belonged to the group of people who didn’t speak a sophisticated language and didn’t understand the true meaning behind words that were used because their owner wasn’t able to speak plainly. His look mirrored his confusion. _What was wrong with his invitation? He had it on good authority that a picnic was a very lady-like summer endeavour. Why didn’t she accept?_

“But... I’ve... already prepared... everything,” he stammered.

 _He didn’t get it._ _How to tell him without chasing him off? The man looked sincere enough, and he was not only rich and elegant but also quite charming – much more so than Ben Warner,_ Marguerite suddenly realised. _No. ‘Elegance’ certainly wasn’t the word that came to mind when one thought of Ben Warner..._

“Mr. Fairbanks, I do have another engagement today. And I can only see you in company – respectable company,” she added - inwardly squirming to utter the clear words but seeing that there was no way around them. _Otherwise, the man would never understand!_

She nodded a farewell and then, upright and composed as was her way, she made her way slowly towards the little house on the outskirts of town that was her home.

 

 

When Ben and Tommy knocked on her door a few hours later, everything was prepared to ascertain her prospects of moulding a somewhat uncouth rancher into a useful and refined husband.

The door opened and Ben was astonished at the difference to his first visit. In front of him stood a young woman who seemed to be at ease with herself, a woman who was not only very elegant but also seemed to display an interest - perhaps even a _fondness_ \- for him.

A few minutes later Ben and Marguerite Hargrove were seated at the table and Tommy was outside. He had taken the first available opportunity to escape the unnerving glances his teacher was sending her adult guest, and he thought it better that his father handled her by himself!

_But would he?_

For a moment, Tommy hesitated. _What if his father changed his mind? There weren’t many women a man could meet in Indian Springs._ Tommy knew that Ben visited the saloon girls regularly. His burgeoning sexuality had opened up his eyes to that particular fact. _But what if his father decided he wanted to have a woman all to himself? And worse, what if he decided that the woman he would have to himself would be named ‘Marguerite Hargrove’?_

“I must have appeared somewhat aloof last time,” Marguerite said, casting a glance and a smile at Ben that could almost be called coy – but that was definitely much more relaxed and natural than anything he had ever seen on her.

 _Aloof wasn’t quite the right word,_ Ben thought, a small smile playing around his lips. _Inhibited would be a better description._

“So, now there’s no need to be ‘aloof’ with me?” he asked, his voice rumbling its way from her ears to her guts, churning them and making goose-pimples appear all over her body. But this time Marguerite didn’t feel helpless. She took a deep breath to control herself again and realized... it actually felt quite... _nice._

She turned and faced him fully. “It was only because I didn’t know you, of course,” she reassured him. “Not yet.”

The slightly hesitant addition made him smile. Her phrasing of the words simply provoked the question. “Would you _like_ to get to know me?” he asked and was rewarded with a smile. _Whatever she was hoping to gain from his visit, he was obviously getting it right._

“Yes, I would.”

 _Did she mean that? Or did he put the wrong meaning on the word ‘know’?_ Ben wasn’t sure.

“Would you like another cup of coffee, Mr. Warner?”

Ben nodded and handed her his cup. _She had thought about all this. Her offering him coffee instead of the strange brew he had had during his last visit was proof of it. Her hair was different, too. It was open and fell over her shoulders. And her movements were much more relaxed and gracious than before. He hadn’t known she could be so... feminine._

 

Plonk – Plonk – Plonk.

The sound disturbed Marguerite’s tender approach and irritated her. Ben rose and walked over to the window.

“It’s Tommy,” he announced. “He’s bouncing a ball against your house.”

For a moment Ben watched as Tommy threw the ball again and again – trying to turn or jump or squat in between deftly catching it and throwing it again against the wall.

Suddenly, Tommy spotted Ben standing at the window, and father and son exchanged a look. Tommy’s expression was strange and Ben wasn’t sure what to make of it. _The boy looked almost... angry._

When Ben turned back to his hostess Marguerite was already heating water for more coffee. Ben remembered her remark and decided to find out what exactly she had meant by it.

“What would you like to know about me?” he inquired, his voice soft, almost tentative.

He walked up to her like he had done the last time. But this time she didn’t panic.

 _He was a simple man,_ she reminded herself. _He wouldn’t figure out what to make of her ways of speaking. Not even a gentleman like Josiah Fairbanks had grasped the meaning of her words, so how could a simple rancher like Ben Warner understand? – She would have to speak plainly and to the point._

Marguerite took a deep breath and turned to face her guest.

_The way she had squared her shoulders and taken that deep breath meant she would finally speak up and say what this was all about._

She looked a bit uncertain when she faced him, and he could see it was hard for her to keep up eye contact.

He smiled softly. _Perhaps she wasn’t as artificial as she had let him believe last time. Perhaps she had only used it to mask her insecurity._

“I was wondering...” She had to take several breaths, and repeatedly her eyes darted away from his only to be courageously fixed upon them again,

“...have you... overcome the death of... of your... your... _beloved_?”

For a moment she looked confused when he came even closer, but she forced herself to stay calm. _He might not be a gentleman, but he was to be trusted. Nothing would be happening to her. And she needed to make him understand._

Ben pondered the woman in front of him.

_She looked almost scared having asked that question. – Had he overcome the death of Rachel? – No. He would always feel guilt. Guilt about not having treated her right while she was alive. Guilt for pushing her into an intimate relationship that she didn’t want and that, ultimately, hadn’t been satisfying. But truth was, he hadn’t ‘lost’ anything. He didn’t miss Rachel. And the curves of the woman in front of him made him acutely aware of the fact that at night he slept in an empty bed._

His hand came up and he placed it softly on the side of her neck, stroking the skin with his fingertips.

Marguerite’s breaths became shallow. _How could hands as calloused as his be so soft?_ His touch wasn’t that intimate but, naturally, it was much more than a lady could ever allow any gentleman to do – without having married her first. _His fingers were so tender._

For a moment she had to close her eyes, the feeling was just too good. _Had she ever been touched so softly? – Perhaps as a small child – many years ago._

She dismissed the pain and regret that threatened to come with this thought and opened her eyes again.

Ben brought his face close, and for a moment she thought he would attempt to kiss her, but then he tilted his head and brought his lips near her ear.

“You sure this is what you want, a beautiful lady like you – getting to know a lowly rancher like me?”

 _That purring voice!_ Hot waves washed over her – but they weren’t so scary any more. Like the last time she felt dizzy and closed her eyes to get a better grip on her emotions, but his nearness and his smell only increased the dizziness.

From outside the faint ‘plonk-plonk’ of Tommy hitting the ball against the wall could be heard.

She swayed slightly, and Ben’s other hand found its way around her waist to support her. He felt her hand grip his upper arm for balance and withdrew to look into her eyes.

“What is your first name?”

“Marguerite.” Her voice was a whisper, her dark eyes huge.

Ben smiled.

“‘ _Maggie’_... eh?”

Her expression changed. _‘Maggie’... indeed. The man had no style. No style at all!_

His sobering remark had brought her back to reality. Carefully, she freed herself of his embrace and took a step back. His look was all innocence as he added, “It’s a beautiful name.”

Ben watched as she turned and took her time to walk around the table, carefully keeping her back to him. _She was slipping into that artificial way again!_

It took him only two quick steps to reach her. His hands gripped her shoulders and he stopped her strides. Bringing his mouth close to her ear again, his voice so quiet she had to strain her ears to hear him he said, “perhaps you should think about what you want first before you invite me again. I could be tempted to lose whatever manners I have when I see such a beautiful woman in front of me.”

Ben’s mouth moved to the skin under her ear and touched it in a soft kiss and an ever-so-slight suckle.

Marguerite shivered in his grip, but he had made his point and didn’t pursue the issue further. Letting her go he turned, took his hat and left without a word.

 

As Ben and Tommy mounted and left Miss Hargrove’s house, Ben deliberately turned his horse towards the town. He meant to have a beer and buy a girl to let off the steam that the encounter had stirred up in him.

He looked at Tommy riding beside him. The boy’s face was dark. “Something on your mind, Tommy?” Ben asked.

Tommy shot him a look Ben couldn’t quite interpret. _Was the boy angry? Or was it something else? Was he jealous?_

Ben frowned and stopped his horse. Tommy followed suit. “What?” he asked his son.

A pain stole into the boy’s eyes. “You aren't going to marry her, are you?” In his words lay all the pain he felt.

Ben felt a little jolt of shock at the word ‘marry’ but he remained silent, intent on drawing Tommy out. And, sure enough, Tommy couldn’t restrain himself.

“She's terrible, Dad! You don’t know her! She's only nice when she wants something from you. And once she’s got it, she changes. Dad, if she comes to live with us, everybody will have to do as she says!”

A smile appeared on Ben’s face. _So it wasn’t a teenage boy’s infatuation with a grown-up woman. Tommy wasn’t jealous. Thank God!_

“What makes you think I want to marry her, boy?” he asked.

“She wants you. And she always gets what she wants!”

Ben laughed.

“You’ll remember my words,” Tommy threatened.

Ben laughed even more. Tommy sulked. Ben shook his head in amusement. The situation was just too good; _a boy of fourteen telling_ him _how to deal with a woman!_

With lips still twitching Ben turned again to Tommy. “So what do you suggest I do, Tommy?” he asked.

“Invite her to the ranch,” Tommy promptly answered.

Ben raised his eyebrows. _Wasn’t that counterproductive to their goal?_

“We’ll show her the stables,” Tommy explained, “and how dirty our work is. And then we’ll show her the dung heap,” he added with a dark voice and an even darker look. “I’m sure she won’t want to come again!”

Ben had a hard time staying serious. _The boy was still a far way off from being a man! Did he really think that such a cheap trick would work on his teacher?_

“You sure this’ll work, Tommy? Might backfire, you know. Perhaps she likes it.”

“Nah, she is too lady-like for this. Ladies don’t like dirt. They just sit around and drink their tea.”

 

Ben thought about Marguerite Hargrove’s flushed cheeks and her voluptuous body – a body that had probably never been touched. Her reaction to his simple gesture seemed to confirm this.

_What would it be like to have a woman like her wait for him at night? A woman who hadn’t had countless men lie between her legs. A woman who hadn’t had any bad experiences with men. Someone he could mould to his needs..._

“Where are we going, anyway?” Tommy asked, suddenly aware that they were in town.

“The saloon. I’d like to have a beer with my son.” 

 

After their male bonding Ben sent a slightly inebriated but totally happy Tommy back to the ranch while he meant to recuperate from the schoolteacher’s chaste advances by spending a joyful hour in Sandy’s bed.

“Ben... can I ask you something?”

“Hm...?” Distracted by her tone of voice, Ben stopped massaging Sandy’s shoulders. She turned around to lie on her back.

“Why is it that men love it so much when women... well you know, the other day I was taking you in my mouth. You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

His smile was her answer.

“Why do men enjoy this so much?” She was genuinely confused.

Ben frowned. “You serious, girl?”

“Yes.”

Ben stretched out beside her, leaning on his elbow, his chin resting in his palm. Sandy copied him and turned to lie opposite, looking at him with openly curious eyes.

Ben’s hand ran along her thigh, hip and side.

“You never tried this for yourself?”

“For myself?” She was confused, but then she understood.

“Women can get this, too?” she asked with round eyes.

Ben chuckled. “Would you like to try?”

For a moment she grew insecure. “I don’t know.”

Ben’s fingers combed a strand of hair out of her face. Then his forefinger ran along her cheek and chin, then his palm softly... o so softly... gripped her neck and drew her head closer to taste her lips.

It was only a soft kiss - _a lover’s kiss, not a customer’s,_ Sandy thought – and he let her go again. _Shame. She didn’t really want him to let her go just yet._

 

Sandy contemplated the man lying opposite her. _Over the last years he had come to see her again and again. And once she had learned that he could be trusted their love-making had been a pleasant experience – a very pleasant experience, indeed._

 _Ben Warner was a man who loved with all senses, and a man who knew what to do to give a woman pleasure and enjoy her pleasure as an added bonus to the love-making. It was a delight to bed him._ Sandy sighed. _Alas, it wasn’t more than that._

Sandy had had many men, and over the years – she was almost 24 and had been in the business since she had turned 18 - she had come to understand a lot about them.

_Most of the men really only needed a poke or a special service to fulfill a dream or getting their rocks off. But some men needed more: an emotional link, a steady relationship. Ben Warner seemed to fall into the latter category._

He might leave her bed physically satisfied, but Sandy could sense that it wasn’t enough for him any longer. He began to outgrow it.

 _He needed more, needed a woman available to him all the time – and only to him._ Sandy sighed. _She wondered if he knew this about himself..._

“What you thinking about, girl?” Ben asked.

Sandy shook her head. She couldn’t explain her thoughts to him, and she didn’t really want to.

_What had he suggested?_

She moved to snuggle into his arms. “Do it, Ben. Show me,” she whispered.

 

 

 

 

 


	13. A welcome visitor

"Boss! You've got to come to the outer meadow!" Matt stormed the house while everybody was eating breakfast.

"What is it this time?" Ben looked at Matt. He could see it was serious.

 

Ben sat on Ribbon, in front of him an empty meadow. The gate stood open, on the ground hoof prints.

"Where can they have gone to?" Matt asked.

Ben's eyes took it all in, the empty space, the open gate, the tell-tale hoof prints. This was the second time someone had been close to his horses, taking them away without the ranch hands having been around.

"Get John and two other men," he said to Matt. "Tell them to pack for a few nights. We'll search them."

They didn’t have to search long.

"There they are," John pointed south. Ben squinted; John's eyes were much better than his own. But when they rode on he could see that John was right; they were riding towards their herd of mares. But they could see only the mares.

"Where are the foals?" Matt asked.

They searched for another day, but the foals were gone. Whoever had taken them had known exactly what they were doing; those foals hadn't been branded yet. Even if Ben would one day come across them in another herd, with a foreign brand he would never be able to prove that they were foals from his ranch.

Ben's eyes roamed over his mares. They were all right. Their separation from their offspring must have been planned very carefully. Whoever had planned this – would sooner or later do something else...

 

 

The next day John Smith brought a visitor from town. Ben was astonished to see a woman sitting next to John on the wagon carrying their weekly supplies.

"Mrs. Miller...?"

She smiled down at him from her seat.

"I saw Mrs. Benson yesterday. She told me she didn't work for you any longer."

Ben's look was cautious, and it made Mrs. Miller's smile even wider.

"I thought I might look in on you... put a few things in order... cook something... if you want me to I can stay a few days. My husband will take care of the grocery store."

At her words Ben's eyes sparkled a mischievous twinkle.

"And who takes care of your husband now?"

Mrs. Miller laughed. "Ah, Mr. Warner! Such a modest man. Don't you worry about him. As soon as I'll get back home, I will take care of him again."

They laughed together. Ben stretched out his arms to help her down from the wagon. When she stood in front of him he released his grip around her waist.

_My, my, what a handsome man! Delicious, and he didn't even know it. He was always such a gentleman. If her Michael hadn't been such a charmer and the most handsome man and the sweetest husband in all the world, Ben Warner would certainly have been a temptation..._

Mrs. Miller took a big carpet bag out of the wagon.

"John, please bring the other bags inside, will you?"

"Yes, Ma'am," John answered. Confidently, Mrs. Miller strode into the house. Ben looked at his foreman questioningly.

"She came to me, told me to load up all that stuff here, boss. And then her husband put in the bag and helped her climb up. So, what was I to do?" John explained with a shrug.

 

 

As soon as Mrs. Miller was there the whole atmosphere changed. It wasn't only that Lilly liked Mrs. Miller and didn't feel the need to fight her. It was Mrs. Miller's quiet, efficient way of putting things in order. On that first day she scrubbed the house, washed the laundry - astonished at the small amount of it – and mended clothes while preparing dinner.

And she did all these things while happily humming and singing to herself. Lilly was so fascinated by this she spent all day in the house searching out the company of Mrs. Miller.

On the second day when Ben came into the house for a drink of water he found both of them covered with flour laughing.

"What's this?" he asked. They turned to him still laughing, and their laughter triggered a sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

"Daddy!" Lilly was rushing towards him as was her habit.

"No!"

Ben's voice stopped Lilly dead in her tracks.

"Not while you're full of flour!"

Lilly froze, offended to the core. Her face turned indignant and she placed her little hands on her hips as she had seen Mrs. Benson do so many times.

"We are making cookies," she declared.

Ben's lips twitched in amusement. He nodded and crouched down in front of her.

"And when they are finished, will you give me one, Little Flower?"

Lilly considered this carefully. In the background Mrs. Miller was watching with a smile.

After due consideration of her father's outrageous request Lilly came to a decision. "Only if you hug me," she declared, her face telling him she meant _now._

Ben's eyebrows went up in astonishment. "Well... let me think... I _love_ cookies," he began. His face was serious now and his voice low. "But I love _you_ even more than cookies. So first _you_ have to hug _me_ real tight, and then you can give me one of your cookies. All right, Little Flower?" His eyes smiled at her as Lilly shrieked consent and hurled herself at him.

They hugged, and Ben stood up holding his little girl close.

"Mrs. Miller, you'll have to give me one of your delicious cookies later on." He declared victory walking over to her.

Mrs. Miller laughed aloud. "Seems to me it was _you_ who got beaten," she said indicating his clothes on which Lilly's hands had left tell-tale, floury traces.

Ben's smile was smug. He bent down to Mrs. Miller's face to whisper, "That was the whole point of it, wasn't it?"

The good lady laughed again. "Well... there's clean, and then there's clean," she said, "and women know that men are _never_ staying clean. That's why we love them."

Ben raised his head and laughed roaringly at the strange logic. For a moment he had the urge to embrace Mrs. Miller and to swing her around. But fortunately he still held Lilly in his arms. _With the good lady taking the chores off his back and even occupying Lilly, life had become so easy!_

_What a man! Just like her Michael, although the two couldn't look more different. And Lilly had exactly his blue-green eyes and those long eyelashes. The way those two looked at her now confirmed it; they didn't only have the same eyes. They were made of the same metal._

Ben sat Lilly down beside Mrs. Miller, and then helped himself to a drink of water.

"Daddy, you're full of flour," Lilly chimed, and Ben almost choked on his drink. Mrs. Miller laughed aloud.

"That's because women _always_ leave a trace on their men, however small they are, Lilly," she said, speaking straight over Lilly's head into the heart of the girl's father.

A warm wave ran through Ben. _Damn right she was. Lilly had marked him with a lot more than just flour._ He kept his back to Mrs. Miller to hide his feelings and occupied himself with refilling his glass.

 

The cookies were delicious. It had been a hard fight keeping Lilly away from them until after dinner.

The usual ritual of reading a fairy tale story in bed was changed into reading it in front of the fireplace, so that Mrs. Miller could listen as well. Lilly didn't even last until the end of the story. By page three she was already fast asleep. The day had just been too exciting and too packed. Ben carried her upstairs.

When he came down again Mrs. Miller was putting the finishing touches to the kitchen, rinsing the coffee mugs and drying them off. Ben approached her.

"I haven't thanked you yet," he said.

"No need to," Mrs. Miller answered without turning to him. "If you call someone 'friends' then they will help you when you need them, won't they?"

An interesting thought. But not one Ben could confirm with his life's experiences.

 

 

Mrs. Miller stayed five days, enjoying family life with a little girl more than she admitted to herself, and she might have stayed even longer had not her husband come to the ranch with a wagon to pick her up.

Lilly was in tears, but Mrs. Miller promised to come back soon and teach her how to bake a cake. All Lilly had to do in the meantime was being an obedient little girl and stop her 'boisterous' ways – an idea of Mrs. Miller's Ben could only react to with a knowledgeable smirk; not even the prospect of getting a whole cake would stop Lilly from being her exuberant, vivacious and sometimes unpredictable self.

 

 

After Mrs. Miller had left life on the ranch returned to normal. Yes, it had been nice to have the good lady bustling about in the kitchen. And it had been especially pleasant to leave things like mending clothes and cleaning the house to her.

But Ben had been self-reliant ever since he had left his tormentor Dorsett at age fifteen, and he was quite capable of looking after himself and his children. Neither did he have the standards of a housewife who took pride in presenting a clean house to the outside world at all times.

Between them, Ben, sometimes John and – very reluctantly - Tommy made short work of any household chores. They cleaned when it was necessary, but they didn't deem it necessary to scrub the house weekly or wash and dry clothes unless they reeked. And they certainly didn't make Lilly wear spotlessly clean clothes all the time!

On the contrary. Both Ben and John encouraged her to try out new tasks, and Lilly was never afraid to follow their lead and their advice. What did it matter if in the wake of these activities her clothes became dirty? She became more self-assured and daring, a happy child – wild, free and without restraint in showing her emotions.

With two fathers like Ben and John, Lilly was having the time of her life, and she knew and enjoyed it! She kept tailing her two favourite men whenever she could. Sometimes, when their work bored her, Lilly would run off to seek out the company of the young foals in the paddocks nearby. Since part of the youngsters had been stolen, those foals were now even more precious, and Ben had installed them on the meadows closest to the house where they could be under surveillance day and night.

The mares always accepted Lilly’s presence around their offspring, as if they knew that she, too, was just a little-one, who was discovering the world or needed some attention.

 

 

“So how are things going with Mr. Warner?”

Six women looked expectantly at Marguerite Hargrove, who had blushed at the question.

Delicately, as was her habit, she picked up her tea cup and had a modest sip. Then she took a breath. _What should she say? Their last conversation had been nice, and yet – it hadn’t gone quite the direction she had wanted it to._

“Well... I think he’s coming along quite nicely,” she then said.

 

 

"You think it'll work?" Ben asked John. They had agreed on the trap they were going to set to prevent further thefts.

"Why not?" John asked. "All depends on the hands doing their job properly, and they're not bad, boss. You know that."

"Yeah... but what if one of the hands is in on the thefts?" Ben asked.

The thought hadn't occurred to John before. "You think so?"

"Don't know," Ben shrugged, "but how else would they get away with it? They know when we tend to the horses, when we take them out to the meadows and leave them there, and they know when we return to check on them. – Sounds to me like it's someone who knows the hands' job pretty well because he works here or used to work here."

John pondered this. "Who do you think it is?"

Ben's stare bored into John's. "You know 'em better 'n me. You tell me, John."

John thought about it, then shook his head. "I don't think it's one of them, boss."

"All right, John." Ben sounded resigned. "You set up the watches. No more horses on the outer meadows without someone watching them – all the time!"

 

 

"Dad, tell me that's not true!"

Tommy stormed into the house. Ben, who was frying their supper, nearly dropped the cooking spoon. Exasperated, he took a deep breath. _No more bad news, please. What the hell was wrong now?_

“They say in town that you're courting Miss Hargrove.”

Unfortunately for Tommy Ben had his back to him, and so Tommy couldn’t witness the rush of emotions that Ben couldn’t keep off his face, shock, astonishment... and then a tingling feeling of satisfaction, perhaps even pride. After all, during his last visit he had tried to scare her off. Obviously, he hadn’t succeeded. And being wanted by _the_ most elegant and educated woman in town wasn’t so bad, was it? Ben suddenly liked the idea of riling Tommy a bit.

Coolly he turned and dished the contents of the pan onto three plates. “Lilly!” he called out, and Lilly, who had been upstairs in her room, came down the stairs. Her whole face, hands and clothes spoke eloquently of the afternoon’s endeavours; she had been playing with mud. _Well, she could wash after dinner,_ Ben decided.

When his father didn’t answer Tommy approached him, crossing his arms and looking at him provocatively. It redirected Ben’s attention successfully to the problem at hand, his relationship with Miss Hargrove.

"Why shouldn't I court her, Tommy?" Ben’s voice was carefully neutral.

"You can't be serious, Dad!"

Ben smiled; he had heard the shock in Tommy’s voice. But he wasn’t ready to dispel the boy’s fears just yet.

Suddenly, all fight went out of Tommy and a look of resignation, even defeat appeared. He hung his head.  “You have no idea what you're doing, Dad.”

The words were so soft Ben perked up. Tommy sounded broken, as if he had given up. _This was ridiculous. But did the boy really think that he had any say in the private affairs of his father?_

“Tommy,” Ben said calmly, “there’s nothing to worry, boy.”

He replaced the empty frying pan, and for a moment a memory flashed through him, a memory of this place as it had been years ago when he had just bought the ranch. A memory of a lush woman smiling at him from the stove...

Something of his thoughts had shown in his face. Tommy was staring at him with a curious expression. Ben shook his head to chase away the dream. He helped Lilly onto her chair and with a cloth perfunctorily cleaned her mud-caked hands before she started on her food. Then he sat down himself.

Seeing that Tommy still wasn’t content with his answer he added, “Any woman I will have here will fit in, Tommy. I’ll make sure of that.”

Then he fixed his eyes on his plate, unwilling to show Tommy the longing and regrets the unbidden image had resurfaced in him.

Tommy sighed and sat down. He felt relieved – for the time being. _But was the danger really over?_

 

 

Ben’s visit had left Marguerite Hargrove in a state of confusion. Although his close proximity hadn’t evoked the panic she had felt at his first visit, she still felt acutely unsettled. _She shouldn’t have allowed his touch at her neck. After all, she was a lady!_ Her hand came up in a silent imitation of his touch. _His fingers had been so soft..._

She sighed. Her education had not included any advice on matters carnal. She had only ever learned how to present herself in the company of ‘gentlemen callers’. She wished her mother were still alive. After all, choosing the right man was something that wasn’t easy. And her elevated status in town made it impossible that she should ask anybody for advice.

Standing before her mirror she examined herself, but her thoughts kept drifting. _His nearness had been... nice. Unsettling, but nice._

She wondered what it would be like to feel his arms squeeze her to his body and his lips devour hers...

_No! What was she thinking about? Even matters carnal could be dignified. They needn’t be so... uncontrolled._

A helpless sigh emerged from her mouth. _Lately, her dreams had included more than one occasion in which a man approached her and passionately gripped her in a powerful embrace without her being able to see his face at first. Sometimes that man had turned out to be Ben Warner, but in her last dream he had worn the face of Josiah Fairbanks!_

_If only she could find out more about Fairbanks without compromising her reputation..._

 

 

 

 

 

 


	14. Death of a saloon girl

 

“Boss...”

John only poked his head inside the house. His tone of voice was so peculiar Ben immediately perked up. They exchanged a look, and without another word Ben rose and took his holster, gun and hat off the hook nearby the door and followed John outside.

“I could see him clearly – never seen the man before.  I’m sure of it. None of our hands, boss. And nobody from town, either. He’s a stranger. He was circling the meadow as if to check it out. Then he was counting the horses.”

“ _Counting_ them?” Ben asked.

John nodded. “Was heading for town a moment ago when I left him to come here. If he doesn’t know the shortcut through the bushes we can be in town before him. Find out where he goes.”

Ben nodded. Silently, he and John picked their way through uneven ground to make town before their unbidden visitor arrived there.

 

“There... that’s him.”

John pointed to a lone rider coming towards town. Both men watched as the rider – cautiously – left the main road and made his way through the back streets.

It was almost completely dark now, and so John couldn’t see how Ben’s eyes had grown cold upon recognizing the man.

“Go on home, John.”

“Go home?” he asked. “You sure, boss?”

Ben nodded. “It’s not smart to leave the horses unwatched for too long. There might be more than one around. You go on riding home and make sure the ranch is all right.”

John hesitated. _Whoever that man was, his boss might need help when he confronted him._ But Ben’s tone of voice hadn’t really given him a chance to protest, and so he turned his horse and left.

 

The man wound his way slowly through the streets. That late nobody was about and every hoof beat could be heard easily. Quietly, Ben dismounted and followed the man noiselessly on foot until he saw him vanish in the back entrance of the little house beside the hotel. _Burns! He was visiting Donald Burns, the hotel owner!_

Ben had always suspected Burns to do some illegal business on the side, but now he wasn’t sure any longer of the man’s motives. Recognizing Burns’ ‘business partner’ it seemed to Ben that there was more to the side business than just easy money. Perhaps someone was out for revenge on Ben Wade and had found a willing partner in Burns...

Ben didn’t have to wait long. The man he had been following emerged after a quarter hour, obviously satisfied with what he had been doing. Before he could reach for the reins and mount his horse Ben had walked up close.

“Looking for me, Santos?” he asked.

The man spun around. At that moment, Ben cocked the gun he was holding. _It never hurt to be careful – especially not with a man he knew as well as the one in front of him._

“Wade?”

“You wanna steal some more horses?” Ben sneered.

“You are here, too? – You getting money for this, too?”

A smile graced Ben’s lips as the meaning of the man’s words hit home.

“So you didn’t know it was _my_ ranch and _my_ horses.” God alone knew which twisted path had made the man in front of him show up in Indian Springs. Santos was an ex-gang member of his, from a time when he hadn’t got rid of his gangs by shooting them.

“What are _you_ doing here? You on to something?” Santos hesitated as a thought crossed his mind. “ _Your ranch?_ ” A wide smile bared a row of rotten teeth as he grasped the power he suddenly held over his former gang-leader. “Townspeople know who you are?”

The shot rang out and a stranger lay bleeding in the dust behind a building. By the time the first town inhabitant had ventured outside and found him he was dead – and his killer long gone.

 

 

Later that night, as Donald Burns came quietly down the stairs and lit a candle a soft, purring voice asked,

“Waiting for someone, Burns?”

Burns spun around and beheld a visitor dressed in black step out of the shadow.

“Warner!”

“Someone told me that _you_ received the money for my foals... where are they, Burns?”

Suddenly there was fear in Burns’ eyes. Ben’s voice had grown increasingly quiet, and his calm certainly intimidated Burns more than any anger or open threat could have done.

Ben came closer. His hand slowly and deliberately went to his gun and he had the satisfaction of seeing Burns shiver with fear.

“Where are they?”

“Indians... they took them to the Paiutes.”

_The Paiutes. No chance of getting them back then. The Paiute tribe was scattered all over South Nevada. Impossible to find out who the horses would be handed to. The only thing he could do was make sure nobody would dare rob him again!_

“Leave me and my ranch alone, Burns. Or I’ll make you pay.”

The words were delivered softly, the threat in them unmistakable. Burns swallowed hard. He didn’t know what to say or do, and he certainly didn’t dare to move.

Ben’s eyes scanned the quivering figure in front of him. _Burns had gotten his message. He could leave now._

 

 

When Ben returned to the ranch, John was sitting on the porch in front of the house. As he dismounted, John came and took the horse’s reins, signalling he would take care of the animal. Ben nodded his thanks.

“Is it over?” John asked as his boss turned to go into the house.

“Don’t know, John,” Ben answered, a weary look in his eyes. “We’ll have to see.”

_Santos hadn’t known that he had built himself up an honest life. But who else was involved? ... Well, only time would tell. He would have to think about it again. But not now. Tomorrow. Now he needed sleep._

 

 

 

To each their own worries.

Contrary to the petty problems Ben dealt with, the Christian women were concerned with matters of really grave importance. That very day, before Ben had visited Donald Burns they had sat together pondering the difficulties of proper courtship.

“It would seem Mr. Warner isn’t the only man who is interested in you, Miss Hargrove,” Amanda Becker said, her voice dropping suggestively' “I have seen someone else pay court to you.”

Everybody turned their attention to the speaker.

“Who?”

“A very fine-looking gentleman... not a rancher in dusty clothes like Mr. Warner. I believe, his name is... _Fairbanks_.”

The Christian women had the satisfaction of seeing Marguerite Hargrove blush a deep red.

“Fairbanks?” Mrs. Simpson echoed. “You are not talking about the man who spends half his time sitting in the saloon playing cards, are you?” She directed her question at Amanda Becker, a smug expression on her face. _It was so good to pay her back!_

Amanda Becker’s astonished look said clearly that she had never heard of this before.

“Not only that,” Mrs. Simpson added. “I’ve seen him more than once in the company of Mr. Burns. – And, money or not, as we all know, Mr. Burns is NOT the right acquaintance for someone who is a true gentleman.”

The women all sighed. _She was, of course, right. What a pity for Miss Hargrove!_

“It would seem that it isn’t easy for a lady like Miss Hargrove to find a suitable match in Indian Springs,” Mrs. Benson put a final line to their chat.

 

 

The Christian women’s meeting had gotten under Marguerite Hargrove’s skin. As she sat in her small living room, the image of Josiah Fairbanks – or rather the image of a perfect gentleman caller in the shape of Josiah Fairbanks – would not leave her mind. _Everyone at the meeting was agreed that Ben Warner – in spite of his money - didn’t quite fit the bill of ‘gentleman caller’. And now it would seem that not even Josiah Fairbanks was an acceptable alternative. But what if he actually was? Perhaps her women friends were just jealous of her, Marguerite. Perhaps they begrudged her the opportunity of marrying a rich and cultivated man as Josiah Fairbanks certainly was. Or wasn’t he? How to find out?_

 

 

The main street was dark and silent – except for the light and the noises that emerged from the saloon. Trembling slightly in the night air, Marguerite clutched her little bag tighter and made for the saloon. She had no intention of entering, but perhaps she could peek over the door and find out if Josiah Fairbanks was really there...

There was no need. Before she could reach the swinging doors, she saw a man stumble out of the saloon – accompanied by a girl. The man wasn’t too sure on his feet – the girl had to support him. He was obviously drunk! Quickly, Marguerite hid in the darkness of the adjacent building.

When the two people passed her by she could see that the man was indeed Josiah Fairbanks. _So it was true! He was spending his time in the saloon, drinking... and obviously doing more than that! What did he intend to do with the girl?_

“Now... you g... get me home, g... girl,” the man blabbered. “Then I’ll show you m... my...”

Marguerite never found out _what_ it was he wanted to show her. Angry at having her dream crushed so brutally, she stepped out of the shadow and right in front of the pair.

“Mr. Fairbanks!”

Stunned by her sudden appearance, both Josiah Fairbanks and the girl Juliet stopped.

A sheepish grin graced Fairbanks’ face. He lifted his hat in greeting

“Ahhh... the beautiful Miss Hargrove...

He bowed and almost keeled over, letting go of his hat. Then he tried in vain to pick it up from the street. Juliet giggled at his attempts. She fetched the hat for him and placed it on his head. Fairbanks smiled at her.

“G... good girl. You g... get me home now. G... Get me _comfortable_.”

He swayed again and Juliet had to grip him harder. But when she tried to lead him along the street Marguerite Hargrove planted herself in front of them.

“Is that what you do in your spare time?” she addressed Fairbanks. “I am appalled. Appalled and disappointed.”

The girl, Juliet, giggled at her speech. It wasn’t the first time an outraged woman had confronted a man she was with. _Women like the schoolteacher never understood men the way she, Juliet, did._

Fairbanks’ sheepish grin just wouldn’t leave his face. In his drunken stupor all he registered was that Marguerite was angry and that she needed to be placated. _But this could wait until later. First, he had to get home and get laid._

He didn’t really mind too much about Marguerite’s anger.

_Women always got upset about drinking and whoring – before they were given a bracelet to turn them into docile little kittens again. For now, the girl on his arm was more alluring..._

Slowly, since he was not too steady on his feet, the two made their way around the impressive figure of Marguerite Hargrove and swayed along the street to the hotel.

 

 

 

_Lunch was ready but where the hell was that girl?_

Ben called and called but Lilly didn’t answer.

“Last I saw her go to the meadow, boss.” One of the ranch hands pointed towards the meadow where the foals and their dams were and Ben headed off.

 _There she was!_ Ben’s eyes grew liquid as he found her. Lilly was lying in the middle of the meadow in the autumn sunshine, cuddled up with the little colt whose mother refused to suckle him. All around them mares grazed, foals played with each other or dozed in the sunshine, the last bees were humming, and a soft breeze moved the grass.

He couldn’t bring himself to wake her. Instead, Ben slowly entered the meadow and moved between the mares so cautiously that they didn’t even raise their heads to look at him. Without a noise he sat down in front of the two toddlers and watched their sleep.

 

“Mr. Warner!”

The sound of Sheriff Davis’ voice woke the girl and the foal. Sleepily, Lilly sat up and rubbed her eyes while the little colt scrambled up on its legs and ran off.

“Sheriff,” Ben greeted Davis with a nod and rose, too, taking in the sheriff’s serious expression.

“Mr. Warner, I need to talk to you.”

 

Ben poured coffee for Sheriff Davis and himself. Lilly was joining them at the table, eating some of her beloved cookies. The sheriff sat brooding over his coffee. Ben decided to remain silent. _Sooner or later everybody started to talk – he was in no hurry._ And, sure enough, when the silence had gone on for too long, Sheriff Davis looked at Ben, a haunted expression in his eyes.

“You know the girl Juliet from the saloon?” he asked Ben.

“Sure I know her,” Ben answered. “What about her?”

“When did you last see her?” Sheriff Davis asked.

“Don’t know,” Ben answered thoughtfully, “last time I was in the saloon was three or four days ago. I was with Sandy. Didn’t see Juliet then.” He frowned. “Mind telling me what’s up?”

Lilly had slipped down from the chair and walked over to Sheriff Davis, cookie in hand. Standing in front of him she extended her little hand and presented him with the cookie.

“For me?” Davis was astonished.

With the serious and grave expressions only five-year-olds are capable of Lilly nodded and handed him the cookie.

“Thank you,” Davis said, not too sure of himself. After all, as a sheriff you didn’t get many cookies for doing your job. Unused to dealing with small children, the sheriff’s hand reluctantly combed over Lilly’s hair.

Lilly nodded once – a nod that looked suspiciously similar to her father’s, Davis thought – and returned to her seat.

Davis didn’t quite know what to do with the cookie in his hand.

To make things easier for him, Ben reached over to Lilly’s remaining cookies and took one for himself. He dunked it in his coffee, patiently awaiting Sheriff Davis’ answer.

Still a little embarrassed, Davis mimicked Ben. After he had finished his cookie, he cleared his throat.

“The girl Juliet was found dead in the street behind the hotel. That’s the second murder near that place.”

“What was the first?” Ben asked, only too aware of the fact that Davis was referring to the man Ben had known as ‘Santos’.

“A stranger was shot there, too, a man nobody knows,” Davis answered as expected.

He sighed again. “Nobody has seen or heard anything. The other girls said that Juliet was seen leaving the saloon with Josiah Fairbanks. But Fairbanks swears she left his place directly after taking him home to his room. And he has a good reputation. I have no reason to doubt his word,” the sheriff added.

“So what you want from me?” Ben asked suspiciously. _Was Davis on to something? Had anybody seen him, Ben, by chance when he killed Santos? But why would the sheriff sit in front of him, dunking a cookie in a mug of coffee, if he meant to arrest him?_

“It is well known, Mr. Warner, that you know the saloon girls. And the girls trust you. I thought... maybe you know something. Know if she’s been afraid of someone lately, maybe someone threatening her...” His voice petered out – he had been going through various possibilities in his mind. But this was as far as his train of thought would lead him. From this point on his thoughts always ran around in never-ending circles.

“Nah,” Ben said, shaking his head, “I don’t know. Sweet girl she was, Julie,” he said reminiscently. The sheriff looked at him closely. Ben chuckled as a memory made itself known. “You know, she always wore a chain with a little black heart around her neck. I once asked her if her heart was as black as that little pendant...”

Ben Warner’s voice died down and Sheriff Davis could hear the regret in it. _Warner’s voice sounded... tender... he must have liked the girl a lot._

Davis knew from experience that Ben had good relationships with all the girls. Often he had seen him joke with them, and the girls trusted him more than they even trusted him, their sheriff.

Davis cast a thoughtful look at his host. _Ben Warner talked and joked with the girls almost as if he were at home in that environment... an environment that harbingered the darker side of man’s existence – from the ‘soiled doves’ to the worst kind of outlaws..._

“You don’t know any... well, _criminals..._ she might have known?” Davis asked.

Ben looked him straight in the eye. “Sheriff, that girl was a whore. She must have known lots of rascals. And make no mistake about it, if it comes to saloon girls, even men who boast a good reputation become rascals. Anyone in town could have done it.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Warner. That’s not true,” Davis objected, “there are lots of men who are upright, who toil away with their wives on their farms for a meagre income and would never lay a hand on a woman.”

“Yes,” Ben nodded, “there are those men. But that type rarely acquaints saloon girls.”

This was as much as the ex-outlaw Ben Wade was willing to say on the matter. He had no intention of making Sheriff Davis suspicious of himself.

He rose to pour the sheriff and himself another cup, but Davis waved off his offer and left.

 

John approached Ben. “Have you told the sheriff about the theft?”

“No.”

“You should, boss,” John said calmly.

“Why?” Ben asked, his brows raised in astonishment.

John studied Ben. _Ben Warner never asked the law to help him. Never. But this time he might have to._

“If this goes on,” he explained, “maybe we have to shoot somebody. If it’s somebody from town everybody knows, then we can’t just dig them up. So, Sheriff’s got to know about it or we run into trouble.”

 _Was it wise to tell the sheriff? To let the law come close?_ Ben thought about it a moment, then shook his head no.

“We’ll deal with it ourselves, John,” he said. John left to check on the mares and their foals.

 

 

 

 

 


	15. A sudden illness

John’s eyes roamed over the scene. Everything looked peaceful. From far off he could see Richard dutifully watching the herd. John gave a wave and Richard acknowledged his presence with a wave back.

 _It wasn’t good that Ben Warner made the hands watch the horses at all times. Already, there weren’t enough men left to train the youngsters._ John sighed. _Sooner or later he would have to speak to Ben Warner about this._

As he observed the animals his eyes searched for his ‘boy’. The little foal was lying aside in the shade under a tree – all alone. It irked John. _It was just the same with people! The bitchy ones got through life without a care in the world, but the nice ones were left out._

A little hand tugged at his trousers.

“Lilly – what are you doing here, pumpkin?”

“I’m not a pumpkin!”

He smiled. She always got all riled up when he called her that and he loved seeing her round, girlish face all red and angry, blazing at him. As a truce offering he held out his hand and Lilly took it.

“Wanna come with me?” he murmured, and the two of them entered the meadow and approached the little foal.

Even though John had been the colt’s only contact over weeks, it was still too shy to allow a grown man come close. When he realized that John and Lilly were headed towards him, the little colt got up hastily and ran off. John heaved a frustrated sigh and Lilly looked at him curiously.

“No use, pumpkin,” John said, his eyes following his equine charge, “he’s scared of us.”

Lilly nodded the grave, world-wise nod of a five-year-old.

“Wanna help me chase the ranch hands to do their work?” John then asked.

Again, Lilly nodded.

“Perhaps later we can keep him some company,” John said. “He’s all alone. His mother doesn’t want him.” He fell silent, not sure he hadn’t said too much when he saw Lilly’s blue-green eyes fixed seriously on him. _Did she remember her mother Rachel? Did she miss her? He certainly didn’t want to tread into a mine field..._

 

 

Again and again Marguerite Hargrove replayed the scene in her mind, Josiah Fairbanks stepping out of the saloon with a saloon girl on his arm – laughing at her. _At her!_ _No. That man certainly did NOT qualify as husband!_

Not admitting to herself how much the thought hurt her, Marguerite scooped soup into her bowl. The soup wasn’t even warm yet, but she didn’t notice. She was busy crossing the name Josiah Fairbanks off her imagined list of eligible bachelors.

_That left only Ben Warner. Everybody else was either spoken for or too poor._

She sighed again.

_Marrying Ben Warner was not something she was looking forward to. It would mean a lot of hard work until the uncouth rancher would finally be moulded into a man of quality._

She had finished her meal and sighed deeply. _How to approach Ben Warner next time? Perhaps in a first step she should make friends with Tommy..._

 

 

“You did very well, Tommy.”

Miss Hargrove’s voice drew Tommy’s attention away from her abundantly filled white blouse and onto her face.

“Lately, your homework has been excellent, Tommy.”

Tommy eyed her suspiciously.

“Perhaps you could one day become a man of politics. Perhaps even the mayor of a town...”

“Nah,” Tommy replied, “I don’t wanna walk around talking to people. I wanna have money. I wanna be a banker.”

“‘Want to’... not ‘wanna’, Tommy. – Oh, well... Banker is a very respectable position, too. And as a banker you do business with all kinds of educated and cultivated people. And it always helps to be educated and well-spoken...”

_Education... her favourite subject. As if Mr. Jones, the banker, had been educated. Ha! He made money, that was what he did. And that was what he, Tommy, wanted to do, too!_

“I’ll learn the banking business from Mr. Jones once I’m finished with school.”

“You still have a lot to learn, Tommy. But if I can be of any help...”

“Am... Dad and Mr. Jones have already talked it over.”

“Mr. Warner is a very generous man providing such a good education for you, isn’t he?”

Miss Hargrove’s smile made Tommy nervous. _She was dangerous. Why didn’t his father see this? This penetrating look of hers... he had to outwit her, had to..._

“What are you doing Sunday, Miss Hargrove?”

“Sunday? Why, I go to church... naturally.”

“No. I mean after. Would you like to come to our ranch and visit us?”

“Visit you? – Tommy, you can’t extend invitations without prior consent from the master of the house.”

“Huh?”

“Does Mr. Warner know that you want to invite me? Would he approve of that?”

“Oh... yeah. Dad knows. He approves.”

“Well... in that case... I’m happy to accept.”

 

Miss Hargrove turned and walked to the black board, taking her time to sort the chalk chunks she used to write exercises on the board.

Tommy’s invitation was like an omen. _If Ben Warner wanted her to inspect his ranch, it could mean only one thing, that he wanted her to decide whether or not she wanted to live there._

_Finally._

Unbidden, the thought of Ben Warner’s soft fingertips on her neck and his hot lips at her ear brought up waves of delicious warmth running through her veins. _What would it be like to allow him to strip her... NO!_

She gave a little shake of her head and closed her eyes to will the unbidden image away. _It would mean he were to touch her on her... he would be close to... his whole body would be close, touching..._

Nausea threatened, and Marguerite opened her eyes in panic, looking at the empty board in front of her.

She took a deep breath and willed reason to set in. _She needed money, so she needed a husband. And letting a man come close to her body was part of marriage, the only way to bind a man for a lifetime. In this context, Ben Warner was as good or as bad as any other man. And, once married, she could go about the business of shaping her life the way she wanted it to be._

When she turned to face the children, she had gained control again. A happy smile on her face mirrored the triumph of reason over emotion, the triumph of prim and proper over weak and lewd.

Tommy saw the smile and panicked.  _What if his father were to marry his teacher? Make her mistress of the house... The house? Hell, the whole ranch and their lives?! No way! Not Miss Hargrove!_

He simply HAD to make sure that this visit would scare Miss Hargrove off them all!

 

 

When Tommy arrived at home that afternoon, the house was empty and his father was nowhere to be found. John was passing him by in a hurry.

“Where’s Dad, John?”

“Bedroom upstairs. Lilly’s sick. I'm to fetch the doctor,” John said, his face serious.

When Tommy looked in on Lilly, he found Ben sitting at her side, wiping her face with a wet cloth. Ben briefly turned to look at Tommy, and his face wore a dark expression.

Softly, Tommy withdrew. He had meant to confess right away that he had invited Miss Hargrove to their ranch. But he could see that this wasn’t a good time to challenge his father. _Better not tell him what would await him on Sunday. At least not just yet..._

 

“Come, baby.”

Ben tried to persuade Lilly to drink a sip of water, but she couldn’t be bothered. Her body was fighting the fever, and she was too weak to do anything at all. She lay in Ben’s bed, prostrate, helpless.

Her moans sliced into Ben as if someone were cutting him open with a sharp knife. _Where the hell was the doctor?_

 

When John returned and told him that the doctor had been called to tend a rancher who had been gored by a bull and couldn’t come, Ben groaned aloud. It was a sound of pain and frustration John had never heard his boss utter before. Not when their precious black stallion had broken his leg and had to be put down, nor when Ben had been thrown against the barn wall by a panicking mare and broken several of his ribs.

John knew that his boss was a quiet man whose emotions weren’t easily readable, and Ben’s groan was so uncharacteristic that John chanced a close look at him. The panic he saw in his boss’ eyes spoke eloquently: Ben was afraid for Lilly. Silently, John approached the bed. He touched his hand to Lilly’s forehead and felt a shock at its heat: _The doctor better come quickly!_

 

 

 

_On Sunday._

_In six days she would stake her claim and snare Ben Warner. She would convince him – once and for all – that she was the right woman for him, a woman he couldn’t even possibly have hoped for in his wildest dreams!_

As Marguerite inspected the gowns that were left from her former days of happiness in New Orleans she realized that in the years between then and now her physique had changed. Her favourite pink and white dress with the precious lace did not fit her any longer!

A knock on the door put a halt on her rising panic.

“Mrs. Benson!”

“I haven’t seen you in a while, my dear, and I thought I’d come over for a tea and a chat.”

Mrs. Benson held up a paper bag which smelled divinely of cakes and Marguerite smiled. Mrs. Benson was the only one whom she had ever encouraged to visit her in her all-too-modest house. Mrs. Benson’s no-nonsense attitude had helped Marguerite many times when she had despaired over rude remarks by townspeople or the wild behaviour of their children in school. _Perhaps she should ask her advice about snaring Ben Warner._

 

“Are you sure that’s what you want, Miss Hargrove?”

 _Ben Warner and Marguerite Hargrove..._ Mrs. Benson simply couldn’t imagine them together. According to her opinion, Mr. Fairbanks would be so much more suitable.

“Believe me, Mrs. Benson, I _have_ been thinking about this. But Ben Warner is the only choice left to me.” Marguerite lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, I actually saw Mr. Fairbanks coming out of the saloon... drunk!”

_My God! That girl needed a touch with reality!_

Mrs. Benson chuckled. “The man who doesn’t drink every now and then hasn’t been born yet, my dear.”

Marguerite’s eyes opened wide in astonishment at the frank remark.

 

Broad and imposing, with her white hair impeccably arranged, Mrs. Benson was intimidating, and – as so often – Marguerite felt like a schoolgirl in her presence. _Maybe she was right and men DID drink every now and then. But it wasn’t only the drinking, was it?_

“And... he also had a girl with him. One of those lewd women who ply their sordid trade where men are giving in to the temptations of gambling and drinking.”

_Oh dear! The way she spoke about it and even more her face said it all; that girl had a grave problem where men and their carnal needs were concerned. – And, most likely, her own carnal needs, too!_

“Men need this,” Mrs. Benson said. “And – make no mistake about this, my dear, - Mr. Warner will expect it from his wife, just like every man does.”

Marguerite blushed violently. Mrs. Benson’s remark had made Ben Warner’s fingertips brush her neck again, and she could feel his lips suckle at her ear softly... The familiar feeling of dizziness threatened to overwhelm her again.

The hearty laughter of her woman-friend stopped her day-dream.

“We women are actually lucky that men have these needs.”

“Lucky?”

“Oh yes. How else would we be able to control them... to make them do all the things they don’t want to do? Only the promise of a peaceful home and...” – she cleared her throat to emphasize her next words – “...what you might call _marital bliss_ can keep a man from straying and turning wild.”

“How?”

Marguerite’s eyes were as wide as her soul was open to Mrs. Benson’s instructions. She had never had anyone teaching her how to manage a man. Her mother had always deemed her too young to learn about these things.

“How?” Mrs. Benson repeated. “Well, that’s easy. You grant a man access to your... well, your ‘chaste treasure’, or you don’t – at least not until he has done what you want him to do. I’m sure a man would always want to give in if there is a reward waiting for him. That’s how men are built, my dear.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes.”

Marguerite felt as if she had just discovered the key to a huge treasure box. _N_ _ow she knew how to handle Ben Warner. He would do exactly as she would wish. Of course, he would. After all, he would always want to return to her company for a peaceful, cultivated talk in the evening... wouldn’t he?_

 

 

The next day Doc Martens finally arrived on the Horseshoe Ranch. Relieved, Ben led him to Lilly’s bedroom.

The doctor sat down on Lilly’s bed and touched his hand to her forehead, frowning briefly at the heat it radiated. Ben saw the frown and fought a rising feeling of panic. Too close was a memory that he hadn’t laid to rest yet: _The last time the doctor had come he couldn’t help. Rachel had died. What if he couldn’t help Lilly either?_

The doctor examined Lilly’s throat and tonsils but didn’t find any infection. Again, he touched her forehead. The high fever might be dangerous, but he needed to be sure before he could voice any suspicion. He uncovered her and touched her all over her body, probing, squeezing. Lilly remained listless, as if she couldn’t be bothered at all. Her eyes had briefly opened at his touch, but then closed again.

Doc Martens was worried. _U_ _sually, children were afraid to be touched – at least by a stranger. Was she so far gone that she didn’t realize he, Thomas Martens, wasn’t her father? That high temperature bore no good tidings. But a high temperature in itself wasn’t more than a clue, a symptom. And it could be a symptom for many diseases, some of them passing, others fatal._

To the doctor’s knowledge, there was no epidemic in town or on any farm – yet. But he knew that sickness and death were always lying in wait – especially for small children.

Ben took in the doctor’s every move. Ever the silent observer in his endeavour to outwit people in order to survive, he had noted the doctor’s frown both at the beginning and after his systematic examination of Lilly. When the doctor sank into a reverie and frowned again, a panic rose in Ben. This was serious; he could see it in the doctor’s face!

Doc Martens mind tried to work out a picture from the few puzzle pieces his examination had afforded him.

_The listless, almost insensible child... could she be suffering from dropsy in the brain? It would explain why she didn’t take in her surroundings any longer._

Doc Martens took a deep breath to calm himself and not to alarm the man standing beside him. _Dropsy in the brain ate away people’s capacities. If the little girl really suffered from this – and survived! – it might leave her simple, her mental capacity limited if not destroyed. The child had not reacted to any of his touches. Was the little girl still able to feel pain elsewhere in her body? Or even a tickle?_

The doctor removed the blanket again. With his stethoscope he tickled Lilly’s bare feet. She suddenly screamed angrily and kicked out at him! Her eyes opened wide and the doctor perceived an angry blaze in them. She didn’t like being tickled by a stranger, but she wasn’t strong enough to do anything else or fight him off. Lilly turned her head and looked at her father.

“Daddy...”

It was only a whisper, weak and desperate, but it cut right into Ben’s heart. He approached and knelt in front of her bed.

“Shhh... Little Flower,” he said, combing her hair, which was wet from perspiration. “The doctor just wants to find out what’s the matter with you...”

At this Lilly calmed down again. Doc Martens took Lilly’s head in his hands and moved it. _No, there was no stiffness, which was typical for that dangerous condition. And the fever itself could point to almost anything._

Lilly let herself go limp. With her father near, there was no need to be afraid of the doctor. Again, Doc Martens placed his hand on her hot forehead.

“Were any strangers on the ranch?” he asked Ben Warner.

Ben thought about it a moment. “Only the sheriff,” he then said. “He came a week ago.”

The doctor nodded at this information. He rose and took a little packet out of his bag.

“Fetch me some water, Mr. Warner,” he said and Ben brought a jug and a glass from the kitchen. The doctor proceeded to dissolve a white powder in a glass of water, then handed it to Ben.

“Make her drink it,” he said.

His voice and look were calm, and so Ben curbed his impatience to urge the doctor to tell him what was the matter with his little girl.

While Lilly obediently drank the potion, the doctor packed his bag and threw his coat over his shoulders. Then both he and Ben went downstairs.

“What is it, doctor? Is it serious?”

Ben’s voice was carefully neutral, but it cost him all his strength.

Doc Martens thought a moment, but then decided that with Ben Warner honesty was best.

“I am not sure, Mr. Warner. Children often develop a fever, and most of the times it turns out to be just that, a fever. Very often, it is gone after a few days.”

His words didn’t calm Ben. “What if it’s not?”

The doctor cleared his throat. “Well, sometimes it can be serious. But I don’t think that likely. You know, I believe it to be a three-day-fever. In which case the fever will go down in a few days, and then she will get a rash.”

“A rash?”

“Yes. A rash marks the end of the sickness. I’ve seen it often in small children, most of them younger than your daughter. A day or so after the rash, they run around the yard as if nothing had ever happened.  All you need to do is make her drink as much as possible and keep her warm. Patience, Mr. Warner. Patience.”

 _Patience!_ Ben couldn’t believe it. _What if she didn’t get better? What if she died?_

For a moment Ben imagined her in a small coffin that was being lowered into the ground. The thought was so horrible that his mind shut down immediately. _NO!_ With a sudden movement he brushed past the doctor and poured himself a glass of water. He needed to move!

Doc Martens saw the panic in his eyes and recognized it as something he had seen before many times: the desperation of a parent. But he had done everything in his power. There wasn’t much else he could do – except give comfort.

He approached Ben Warner to place his hand on his shoulder in an attempt to stop the soul-eating train of thoughts the man was obviously in... but then he remembered something he had recently learned about him and thought better of it.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Warner. But there is no more I can do,” he said and left the room.

Ben had his back to him. His head was hurting, his thoughts in a whirl. When he heard the door shut behind the doctor, he placed his hands on the table and leaned heavily forward – his whole body suddenly too tired to keep upright.

_He couldn’t fight any longer. What was he to do?_

A sick feeling grew in his stomach as he realized that he was helpless. Forever the man to be pro-active and decisive about any situation he found himself in, he suddenly faced a wall – tall, dark, impenetrable. _T_ _here was nothing he could do. Nothing!_

He raised his face towards the ceiling and groaned – a sound of utter frustration and defeat. Then he allowed the tears to flow.

 

 

 

 


	16. A true friend

 

“It’s no good,” Matt said. “We don’t have enough men around with all the hands lurking about at the meadows, watching the horses all the time.”

John nodded. “I know.”

“You gotta tell the boss, John.”

John grimaced. Simply _telling_ Ben Warner wouldn’t work. He would have to find a way to make him _see_ for himself.

 

 

“Baby...”

Ben’s voice penetrated Lilly’s daze. She had been wading through endless fog. Sometimes, her mother’s face emerged in front of her, and then Lilly tried to run another way – only to be standing in front of Mrs. Benson! _But Daddy was here somewhere... Where had his voice come from? The fog was so dense... She HAD to find him!_

“Lilly...”

Ben saw that Lilly was in the throes of a nightmare. But he didn’t dare wake her up forcefully. Instead, he replaced the dry towels on her forehead and neck with fresh, cold ones and kept talking softly.

“Wake up, baby. Wake up.”

_Daddy... Somewhere nearby. He was somewhere out here._

Lilly moaned and twitched on the bed, and it hurt Ben to see how she was fighting and suffering.

“Daddy...”

It was only a whisper, but it was something to hold onto.

“Yes, baby... Come on... Wake up... I’ve got some soup for you.”

_‘Yes, baby.’ It was HIS voice. It was HIM. He was here._

The surroundings changed and suddenly Lilly found herself standing in a summer meadow in the sunshine. There were foals everywhere - black, bay, and brown ones - but Lilly’s eyes kept searching for a tall man in a black outfit...

“Lilly...”

She turned, and there he was!

“Daddy!”

Running as fast as she could, Lilly ran into her father’s outstretched arms.

When she opened her eyes and smiled weakly at him, Ben’s eyes overflowed. The constant worry over Lilly was wearing him down. He hadn’t eaten in two-and-a-half days, hadn’t even slept in his bed in all the time, only dozed off now and then in the chair beside Lilly’s bed.

But now she was awake, and reached out her arms for him to hold her. He bent down and they hugged. _She was so weak, poor Little Flower._

Ben made Lilly eat some soup, and he told her that her little equine friends were waiting for her to get better and join them outside in the meadow.

At that Lilly smiled. _She hadn’t seen her favourite foal in her dream. Maybe, if she closed her eyes and dreamed again, she would see it..._

 

When Ben saw Lilly close her eyes again, a wave of despair washed over him. _She didn’t even have the strength to talk to him. And the fever hadn’t gone down at all._ He placed his hand on her forehead again. _It felt like she was burning up from inside!_

_Two days of fever. The doctor had said Lilly would get better after the third day. One more day. If Lilly didn’t get better by then, he would personally fetch the doctor and...!_

_And... what?_

Reason kicked in again, and Ben rose and carried the soup bowl to the kitchen to occupy himself and get his mind off the dangerous circle of thought that kept sneaking up on him and that he had never experienced before, a circle that always ended with a feeling of utter despair. Despair and the knowledge that life without Lilly wasn’t worth living!

Standing at the sink he ate the remaining soup in the pot and heated water for coffee.

The familiar smell and taste of coffee had a soothing effect. Ben felt his thoughts calm down and slip back into that devastating clarity that didn’t allow for self-delusion and that was his hallmark. _He knew that the doctor hadn’t promised anything. The doctor didn’t know whether Lilly’s illness was serious or not. In fact, he was just as helpless as Ben himself was._

 

 

During Ben’s musings Tommy had entered the house. He was nervous. So far he hadn’t told Ben about Miss Hargrove’s visit. He knew he would be in trouble should she show up without his father knowing about it.

“Dad...”

“What?” Ben poured himself a second coffee and drank deeply from the cup.

“Am... Miss Hargrove’s coming on Sunday.”

“Hm...?” Ben’s absent-mindedness wasn’t lost on Tommy.

“Dad!”

“What?” This time Ben spun around and actually looked at him.

“I invited Miss Hargrove for Sunday. She’ll come after church.”

Ben stared at Tommy. “Is this a joke?”

“No, Dad! It’s important that we scare her off! Or she’ll be after us all her life!”

 _That stupid idea of his again!_ Ben groaned inwardly. _That boy just didn’t know what he was doing. – But it was his own fault. He should have interfered the first time Tommy had mentioned his stupid idea. Now it was too late and he had to deal with it._

Ben took a deep breath. _How was he to entertain a woman like Miss Hargrove when all he could think about was Lilly?_

“Don’t worry,” Tommy added, “I’ll take care of everything.”

Tommy ignored Ben’s look that had turned dark and continued, “You won’t have to do a thing. I’ve worked it all out already. Trust me.”

He turned and left, making sure there was enough distance between them before his father could fully comprehend what he had just been told.

When Tommy had gone, Ben laughed aloud. _‘Trust me’,_ he had said. _Who did that boy think he was?_

 

Exhausted from hours and hours of vigil Ben sat down at the dinner table and pondered Miss Hargrove’s visit to his ranch. _If she had accepted Tommy’s invitation, then it must mean that she really took an interest in him. She would never risk gossip otherwise._

Marguerite Hargrove’s doll-like face framed by her black curls rose in front of Ben’s inner eye. For a moment he allowed himself to imagine her in this kitchen. Her small hand put a cup of coffee beside him, then softly touched his shoulder... when he heard a sound from the bedroom.

_Lilly!_

Ben hurried up the stairs.

 

 

 

_Finally something was happening!_

For hours Jason had been watching the hotel and house of Donald Burns – because he had been told to. He’d much rather sit with his buddies on the ranch and play cards. Hell, he’d rather repair fences in the rain than stand around watching a door that never opened!

But it had opened, and Burns had come out. The fact that he wore a coat proved that he wanted to ride somewhere, not just walk over to the saloon for a beer. As inconspicuously as possible Jason followed him.

After an hour’s ride through territory Jason had never been through before Burns stopped at an old barn. The farmhouse on the land was unkempt and deserted, and the barn itself didn’t look too promising, either. Jason hid behind rocks and bushes.

He didn’t have to wait long. After a quarter hour a wagon with two men rumbled along an unused track. When it approached the barn Burns stepped outside and greeted the two men, who jumped off the wagon. To Jason it seemed that they knew each other.

All three vanished in the barn. Jason already considered sneaking closer to listen in on their conversation, but suddenly the barn door opened and the men brought out a wooden box.

Jason watched one of the men pry the box open and take out a rifle. He looked the rifle over and tested it before nodding to his partner: the weapon was deemed okay.

The rifle was replaced and the box was nailed shut again. Then the two men proceeded to load box after box onto the wagon. Jason counted 20 boxes, each of which was large enough to hold ten or twelve rifles.

When the boxes were stowed Burns received two saddle bags, the contents of which he checked thoroughly. After he was through he nodded to the men on the wagon and they left with their cartload.

Jason watched closely as Burns emptied the contents of the saddle bags. They were full of money. He stored the money in his own saddle bags and threw the emptied bags into the barn. Then he mounted and left.

Jason waited another half hour to make sure Burns didn’t come back. Then he checked out the barn. It was empty. The two men had taken all the boxes with them. _He better ride back to the Horseshoe Ranch and tell John Smith about this. He would know whether or not to tell Ben Warner._

 

_Jason had come to the Horseshoe Ranch five years ago, and it was the best place he had ever worked. Ben Warner was a man who knew how to handle his business. But better than that, he knew how to handle his men, too._

_Jason thought back to Virginia City where he had worked on a cattle ranch. In his previous employ the rancher’s wife had cooked for the hands, and the food – though delicious and plentiful – had been soured by her daily sermons. Whenever he, Jason, had gotten into a brawl, he had been sure to receive a good tongue lashing. It had been the reason for him to leave and try to find a better place – a place where a man could be a man!_

_He had finally found such a place on the Horseshoe Ranch. Ben Warner didn’t mind when one of the hands spent a night away from the ranch for whoring – as long as they showed up again when the work needed to be done. Hell, Warner himself went to the girls regularly, and the only grudge he, Jason, bore against his employer was that nobody stood a chance with any of the girls as long as Ben Warner was around. The girls were all crazy about him, and he always had first pick!_

 

 

“We keep watching him?” Jason asked after he had told his story to John Smith.

John thought about it. _If they kept watching both the meadows_ _AND Donald Burns all the time, they would never get the work done. Come winter, the youngsters needed to be sold to make room for the new foals, and they couldn’t be sold without them being properly trained._

“No.” John shook his head. “You stay here and do your job. – Oh, and tell the hands I only want the horses on the outer meadows watched over. Everybody else come back and do their work.”

Jason nodded and left – leaving a worried John behind.

_Had he really done the right thing?_

 

 

 

“And then you get out the stallion so she can see him.”

“Oh no, Tommy. I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can, Matt.”

“Tommy, that stallion is a mean one. You know how he kicks and bites whenever someone other than the boss is around.”

“Yeah... but you can handle him, too, Matt, can’t you?”

“Only when I’m on my own. Someone else come in, he gets crazy. It ain’t for nothing that the boss is keeping him boxed up, you know.”

“Oh, come on, Matt. It’s not so bad. – Anyway. Doesn’t matter. I say we show her the stallion, and that’s that.”

Assuming the voice and stance of a master of the universe Tommy left the barn, brushing John Smith on his way out.

“What was that about?” John asked Matt.

“Schoolteacher is visiting the ranch on Sunday, and Tommy wants me to show the stallion to her,” Matt answered with a tilt of his head towards the back of the barn where the stallion was boxed.

“You won’t do anything of the kind. You know how vicious that stallion gets. And with a woman around – no way!” John shook his head.

“I know, I know,” Matt conceded, “but he ordered it. What can I do?”

John’s eyes could blaze fire, too, when he was angry. And he was so now; Matt could see it.

“ _I_ am the foreman, Matt. And I’m telling you not to. You or the hands do anything that gives trouble to the boss on Sunday, you’ll have to answer to me. You hear that?”

With this he left, and Matt decided to be too busy on Sunday to be around should Tommy want him.

 

 

 

“There you are! As pretty as a summer flower. I’m sure you’ll make quite an impression on that ranch!”

Mrs. Benson fastened the laces on Marguerite Hargrove’s pink and white dress and looked her over critically, smiling at the picture in front of her.

“See? Just as I told you, four days without food and a few changes to your dress and it fits perfectly.”

Marguerite grimaced. _It had been hard enough staying away from food for such a long period of time. Could Ben Warner possibly be worth so much effort on her part?_

She turned and her skirt swung becomingly around her.

“This has always been my favourite dress,” she remarked and smiled a smile full of memories. _This was the dress her mother had given her when she had finished that terrible school many years ago. It was the dress she had worn when she had first been allowed to attend balls in New Orleans. And she would wear this dress today when seeing Ben Warner. Wearing this dress nothing in life could go wrong, she simply knew it!_

“Now, one last word of advice,” Mrs. Benson said. “I know you have bought cookies to give to Lilly...”

“You told me to make friends with the girl,” Marguerite interrupted Mrs. Benson nervously.

“Yes, by all means. But giving her the cookies might not be enough. She’s got a mind of her own – just like that father of hers.” Mrs. Benson uttered the last remark under her breath. “She may well behave a bit wild.”

“Well, then she will have to be disciplined.”

Marguerite stated a fact while putting the finishing touches to her sleeves. _Why did Mrs. Benson ramble on about that child? What was her point?_

“But that’s exactly it!” Mrs. Benson was anxious to make Marguerite understand. “One harsh word against the girl and the man will never consider you. Try to be nice to her and praise her in front of her father – no matter how she behaves.”

“I can’t accept improper behaviour, Mrs. Benson. What would become of it?”

“You are not in school!” Mrs. Benson was desperately trying to get her message across. “Later on, when you are mistress of the ranch you can discipline her all you like. But for now you are out to get the girl’s father, and you’ll never get him without having the girl on your side.”

Marguerite took a deep breath. _Ben Warner seemed to be a very unreasonable man indeed, letting a mere child decide about his choice of woman! Oh well... she could see that Mrs. Benson was serious about this. And so far, Mrs. Benson’s advice had always been very helpful..._

 

 

 

Just like the doctor had predicted, after her fever was gone Lilly developed a rash all over her body. But she was far from the listless, helpless little mite she had been during the previous days, and since she started to eat her beloved cookies again, Ben relaxed and pushed the worrying thoughts and feelings her sickness had confronted him with to the back of his mind. His Little Flower was getting well again.

When Ben emerged from the house, John filled him in about everything Jason had discovered. Almost aside, John mentioned that he had withdrawn the men from their watches and put them back to work with the horses again. Ben looked around; the yard was buzzing with ranch hands who were busy handling the youngsters, and everything looked impeccable.

And he became aware of the fact that John had handled the situation better than he himself would have done. _He, Ben, would never have risked leaving Burns unwatched, especially after his night visit to the man. He would have kept him under close surveillance._

But these were the thoughts of an outlaw who had to watch his back at all times, who had to sleep with an open eye and could never trust people – lest he risk losing his life!

Standing beside John watching his men at work Ben realized that his own perception of himself and the people around him stood in stark contrast to how the ranch hands and the townspeople saw him.

To them Ben Warner, the owner of the Horseshoe Ranch, was a man with a firm standing in the town community. Until he did anything unlawful, he was safe and protected by the rules that community imposed on itself.

_Even if Donald Burns hated him, he couldn’t risk a feud with the rancher Ben Warner, much less an open attack in any way. Instead, it was Ben now who held Burns’ life in his hands by NOT reporting him to the sheriff. - So, maybe making the ranch hands watch Burns instead of doing their job really was inappropriate._

Ben took a deep breath and looked at John.

_John had made the right decisions. The youngsters needed to be trained or they couldn’t be sold. And without the money from the sale he couldn’t pay the hands and the ranch couldn’t get ready for winter._

John saw Ben’s gaze sweep over the yard and the buildings. He knew how Ben normally reacted to disobedience. Then John saw Ben’s eyes come to rest on his face, calm, steady, thoughtful.

“I’ll take a look around,” Ben said. “Join me, John.”

 

They didn’t ride far. Just as far as the meadow where the smaller foals were with their dams. When they arrived they spotted John’s little colt. It was challenging another foal.

“Look at him!” John was beaming with pride. Ben had to smile at his foreman’s enthusiasm.

The little colt was fighting a black foal. It was older than John’s ‘baby’ and considerably bigger - and it was the strongest of its group.

Both Ben and John watched mesmerized as John’s ‘little boy’ fought back. He had learned so much once he had been put out to pasture with the other horses, there was no denying it had done him a world of good.

Suddenly, the black foal tripped and fell. It gave his adversary the advantage he needed. As quick as lightning the little colt attacked his pal, and the black foal squealed – and ran!

“Yeah!” John raised his fist in triumph. He couldn’t be prouder of his little boy.

“Did you see that?” he asked Ben. “He did it!”

Ben smiled at his foreman. “Nah, _you_ did it, John.” And when he saw the proud smile on John’s face grew even wider, he added, “Gotta make you a nursemaid now instead of foreman.”

“Don’t think I could do the job,” John muttered, turning serious all of a sudden. “Not with what I saw you go through with the Little One, anyway.”

Ben took a deep breath and his eyes travelled to the horizon, avoiding John’s.

“There was a night... didn’t think she would make it, John.”

His voice was husky, and not even the deep breaths he took could chase the shadows away completely.

John’s fists clenched on the reins. He knew how Ben had felt. _Just like he himself had felt... helpless._

“If I could have helped in any way...” John started but then stopped. _What could he say?_

Ben nodded. He understood that John felt the same about Lilly as he did. _Well... almost the same. - And he HAD helped. John’s unauthorized decisions had made him, Ben, aware that he was a rancher now and that he needed to forget his outlaw ways. In John he had a man whom he could truly rely on._

“You did help, John. More than you know.”

 

 

 

 

 


	17. The all-important visit - Part 1

The rash had barely left her body when Lilly demanded to go out to play with the foals again. Just like the doctor had said, she ran around as if nothing had ever happened. Come Sunday, she would be right as rain.

 

 

Sunday church.

For the first time ever Marguerite couldn’t concentrate on Reverend McCarthy’s sermon. _What was it the Reverend had talked about? Something about Jonah and the hopelessness he must have felt inside the belly of that fish?_

Marguerite fixed her eyes firmly on the crucifix that hung on the wall opposite her and willed her thoughts not to stray. _It was unseemly to think thoughts about courtship and marriage when there was a service being held. It was... frivolous. That’s what it was._

But when the monotonous voice of Reverend McCarthy droned on, her thoughts drifted again... to the afternoon and the fact that this afternoon might determine her whole future.

 

 

It took about an hour from town to go to the Horseshoe Ranch. During the whole way Marguerite Hargrove was incapable of noticing the breathtaking autumn beauty of the surrounding landscape. She sat on the wagon - a figure in white and pink - erect, stiff, lady-like, and without an outward sign of the turmoil of thoughts that made her heart beat fast. _There were so many things she had thought about and practised in the privacy of her home, things to do and say during her visit to the Horseshoe Ranch. But now they seemed to be gone. She couldn’t remember any of them! What was she to do?_

The wagon rolled into the yard. Marguerite Hargrove’s gaze swept over the yard, the buildings and the men present. _So far it didn’t look impressive at all._

Marguerite thought about the estate her family had once owned, a huge cotton plantation which was graced by a most impressive mansion. In front of their mansion a driveway had led to the main entrance, and a roundabout enabled the coaches to arrive one after another, unload the guests and drive off again.

The wagon came to a standstill. _The yard that was surrounding her was big enough for a roundabout – but nobody in the West seemed to have heard of such a practical – and beautiful! – access to their domicile. And where an imposing mansion could have stood there was only a house. Little more than a hut_ , she thought and turned her nose at the wooden building, knowing all-too-well that she was being unfair. Nobody in Indian Springs – not even a man like Jeremiah Jones, the banker – owned a mansion. Everybody lived in houses. And nobody – at least nobody to her knowledge – employed cleaners, housemaids, butlers and the like.

Another sigh escaped her. _Life back home on the plantation had been so wonderful. If the stupid men hadn’t lost the war to those Yankee soldiers, she would still be living there._

She saw Ben Warner stand at the corral watching her arrival. Quickly, she re-arranged her face to the friendly smile she had practised. _It was no good to dwell on the past. She must look forward! And she mustn’t let Ben Warner know what she really thought of the place. Instead, she set go about to improve it and to modify it to her needs..._

 

 

Ben watched the wagon stop in the yard. The driver, the owner of the livery, jumped off and then helped his passenger to climb down. Ben saw Marguerite Hargrove celebrate her arrival like a performance; slowly and with the utmost care not to touch any dirt or dust, she stepped down. Her dress was stunning, Ben had to admit, if somewhat unusual. It was the dress of a young girl, not a fully-fledged woman.

He cast a look around. Everybody stood riveted by the schoolteacher’s arrival, as if they were seeing a strange apparition. Marguerite Hargrove sent a disapproving look towards the bright autumn sun and opened her umbrella to shield herself from its rays.

Ben shot a sceptical glance at the sun. He doubted it was still hot enough to do any damage. _But then, what did he know about a lady’s precious white skin? Oh well... he better walk over and greet her._ He looked around for Lilly to introduce her to the schoolteacher.

But Lilly had already taken off at speed towards the figure in the bright dress. All he could do was follow.

Wide-eyed, Lilly stood in front of the woman who had arrived on their ranch and looked up at the smiling face with the dark black curls and the impressive umbrella.

“Are you a princess?” she asked, and the woman in front of her smiled.

Ben heard her strange greeting and couldn’t suppress a smile; the picture was just too cute. There she was, his little girl, all dusty and dirty from playing, her blue-green eyes speaking of amazement, waiting for the strange apparition in front of her to say or do something.

And the ‘apparition’ smiled... the softest smile Ben had yet seen on her. Tall, with her impeccably-clean dress, Marguerite Hargrove towered over Lilly, bending over now to be closer to the little girl’s face.

“No,” she said, “I’m not a princess. I’m a schoolteacher.”

Lilly was at a loss. _What was a schoolteacher?_

Marguerite smiled benevolently. _Of course, the little girl wouldn’t know what to make of this answer. After all, she was only the daughter of an uneducated rancher._

But Marguerite had rehearsed her part thoroughly, and for now it was more important to impress the little girl than to make her understand. She looked at Lilly and continued, “I’ve brought a gift for you.”

The pink-and-white bag that was fastened at the side of her huge skirt held a small paper bag which she took out now. It smelled of cookies.

 _Bribery!_ Tommy who stood further off was angry. _That was unfair!_

Lilly stretched out her hand and meant to take the bag when it was snatched away from her by the princess who called herself ‘schoolteacher’.

“But my gift is not for a dirty girl. You have to wash first.”

The words were uttered with the usual school-marm authority that Miss Hargrove had acquired over the years.

 _Gotcha!_ Tommy thought. _Lilly’s never gonna be bought like that!_

Grinning, he waited for Lilly to denounce this imposition and immediately end her unseemly admiration. Ben, too, was thinking along these lines, and he waited for Lilly’s reply, already wondering about how to soften the blow she was certain to deal Miss Hargrove, when Lilly nodded gravely and held out her hand to her father.

“Daddy...” she said. It was a definite command to accompany her inside and help her wash.

Ben and Miss Hargrove exchanged a look.

“Excuse me, Ma’am.” Ben gave a tilt of the head, his finger touched the rim of his hat and he smiled. Marguerite smiled back – a smile of adult conspiracy.

Tommy groaned inwardly as he watched Ben and Lilly vanish inside the house while Miss Hargrove talked to and and then dismissed the man who had brought her.

The wagon turned and rumbled away.

 

Before Tommy could take matters in his owns hands and solemnly lead Miss Hargrove to the dung heap as he had planned, Ben and Lilly were back – the latter’s face and hands freshly washed. Proudly, Lilly stood in front of the ‘schoolteacher-princess’ and accepted the gift of cookies. Ben looked on with an amused smile.

When Tommy saw his father’s smile his blood started to boil. _Dear God, no! Please don’t let them fall under Miss Hargrove’s spell!_

He approached his teacher.  “Miss Hargrove, would you like to see our youngsters?” he asked. _Somehow it must be possible to make her slip and soil her dress in the horse dung. Let’s see her behave lady-like then._

Miss Hargrove hesitated. _She couldn’t say ‘no’, could she? After all, it had been Tommy who had invited her. Perhaps Tommy would prove to be her ally...?_

“Well... that would be nice, Tommy. I would indeed like to see the ranch.”

 _Yeah,_ Tommy thought _, let me show you._

His malevolent smirk wasn’t lost on Ben, who could see that Tommy was up to something. He meant to forestall it.

“It’s a beautiful day,” he said and turned to Marguerite Hargrove. “If you don’t mind walking for a bit, I’ll take you to the meadow where the foals are."

“Yes.” Marguerite was relieved. After all, she didn’t exactly want Tommy for company. “I’d like that very much, Mr. Warner.”

Tommy moved to join them but Ben’s stare made him freeze on the spot.

Tailed by Lilly, Ben and Miss Hargrove made their way across the yard and towards a worn-out path that led to a small meadow further off. There, Ben had placed the mares and their foals. In the evenings, they were taken into the barn close to the house. He couldn't afford losing any more of this year’s offspring.

Tommy watched them go and growled. His mind concocted up all kinds of scenarios which might embarrass Miss Hargrove in front of Ben and the ranch hands. He was sure he would succeed – he simply had to! _But first his father must be prevented from interfering._

 

 

The foals were dozing and playing in the autumn sunshine while their mothers grazed nearby. It was a picture that never failed to charm Ben. The once tiny creatures had grown over the previous months and turned into promising stock. Proudly, he looked at the woman beside him, hoping that she, too, might feel the charm the scene oozed. He couldn’t interpret her look. She eyed the horses and the surrounding lands but no smile lit her face.

Marguerite was taking in the vastness of the scenery. Further off there were more meadows, but there were no horses on them. _This was strange. Did they or did they not belong to the Horseshoe Ranch? Why weren’t the other meadows used? Perhaps Ben Warner wasn’t as wealthy as she had thought. Perhaps he didn’t own enough meadows for his horses. And didn’t this mean that he wouldn’t be able to provide the lifestyle she had in mind for her future?_

“What are you thinking about?” Ben asked outright.

_She mustn’t let him know her thoughts – but she needed to know about his wealth before making a terrible mistake._

“Are these your meadows?” she pointed further off.

“Yes.”

“Why aren’t there any horses on them?”

Ben smiled. “They are off limits for this year. The grass will soon be cut down to make hay for the winter. The meadows over there” – he pointed to land that lay behind the ranch buildings – “were used a lot last year, and I want the grass to grow back first. So we don’t use them this year either.”

“I see”, Marguerite said and smiled. She did, indeed. _So he DID own all the land, after all. It just wasn’t used._

 

 

Meanwhile, Lilly had decided she ought to give a present to the ‘schoolteacher-princess’ – after all, she had been given something, too.

She approached, her little fist carefully closed, and presented it to Marguerite Hargrove.

Benevolently and with a superior smile, Marguerite wanted to receive her ‘gift’ when she realized that Lilly’s little fist held bugs and earthworms.

“Ayyyiiii...!” she screeched, withdrew her hand immediately and stepped back in disgust.

“How can you touch this vermin? It’s revolting!”

Lilly had never heard the term ‘vermin’ before.

“They're ‘bugs’,” she corrected the woman in front of her seriously.

At first, Ben had meant to step in like he had once done with Mrs. Benson, but then he decided to stand back and watch. _How would Miss Hargrove deal with the situation and the fact that Lilly had meant to give her a gift?_

“They are ‘creepy’,” Marguerite said to Lilly, trying to shake off the last remnants of disgust. She was well aware of the fact that Ben Warner watched her every move.

_Thank God, Mrs. Benson had prepared her and explained to her that the little girl was not to be scolded, although she was in desperate need of being ‘corrected’ of her hoydenish ways..._

Marguerite shook off the anger that began to loom inside her and concentrated on what was important. _For now, it was important to pass this test in front of Ben Warner._

And so, she assumed her schoolmarm stance again – the one that helped her deal with anything children said and did – and looked sternly at Lilly.

“Lilly, they are ‘creepy-crawlies’. And because they are ‘creepy-crawlies’ you should not touch them. Now you will have to go back to the house and wash your hands again.”

Confused, Lilly looked at her little fist that still squeezed a bug and an earthworm into close company. Then she looked at her father for help. 

“Lilly, ladies don’t like bugs,” Ben said. Then he smiled at her. “But they do like flowers. Why don’t you run over there and get the lady a few flowers?” He pointed to a patch of green outside a meadow. Out of reach of the horses, there were wild flowers: poppies, daisies, cornflowers, and prairie flax. Lilly dropped the bugs she held and raced over to pick them.

When there were no more flowers left on the little spot Lilly stood and waved at the two adults with her bouquet. Ben smiled at his little girl and opened his arms wide.

Lilly ran towards him and he caught her in his arms and swung her around. While still on his arm Lilly presented Miss Hargrove with the – now somewhat crushed – flowers.

Marguerite wasn’t charmed. _This wasn’t the way it should be done. First, the girl should have presented the flowers to her – preferably with a curtsey, – and only then she should have gone to her father._

Somewhat confused Marguerite stood, the flowers - including some roots and dirt Lilly had ripped out - in her hand. Both Ben and Lilly looked at her, and for the first time she realized that their eyes were exactly the same – as were their looks. _They seemed to expect something of her... but what?_

Ben stood and waited. _What was the matter with her? Did she really not know that Lilly craved a compliment? A little thank-you?_

When the schoolteacher didn’t react to Lilly’s gift, Ben kissed his little girl on her cheek. “Well done, Lilly,” he said and put her down on her feet again.

 _The man really attached too much importance to the moods of this child! It was exactly like Mrs. Benson had said. Oh well... she would remedy this. For now_ – here Marguerite had to take a frustrated breath – _she would have to indulge the child._

 

 

After the exchange with the ‘creepy-crawlies’ and the flowers Lilly decided that the princess-schoolteacher wasn’t so interesting after all. She slipped onto the meadow between the lower rails and ran towards the foals.

Marguerite caught her movement in the corner of her eye. “Careful, Lilly. Come back. You’ll hurt yourself!”

“Nah...” Ben said. “Don’t worry. She knows the horses. And what’s more important, they know her. She’ll be all right.”

Together they watched Lilly approach a copper-coloured foal. It was a little filly. The filly stood calmly while Lilly dashed straight towards her. Any other animal might have taken flight but the filly knew Lilly well and wasn’t afraid.

_The little filly had been the first birth Lilly had ever seen in her life. Mesmerized, she had watched everything while her father had explained what was happening in front of her. When the little filly had been born, Lilly had been allowed to touch and cuddle it. For the newborn little animal, Lilly belonged to her world just like her mother did._

_Lilly had visited her copper-coloured little friend every day, and the little filly had grown up perceiving Lilly as a playmate and almost a sibling. The two loved each other and were completely at ease in each other’s company._

 

Ben saw that Marguerite Hargrove was impressed by how fearlessly Lilly approached the little horse. For a moment Ben contemplated telling her about the birth and how Lilly and the filly had grown so close, but then he decided against it. _It might not be a good idea. After all, he didn’t know the woman beside him that well. And she might become squeamish at a man telling her about something as intimate as a birthing._

Ben and Marguerite stood side by side and watched Lilly hug the foal’s neck. Then she stood resting her face in its coat, deeply breathing in its odour. The little filly turned her head and started gnawing at Lilly’s plait. When it tucked at her hair, Lilly shook her head, freed her hair and shoved the foal away. Then she ran off.

The foal squealed and ran after her. At seven months of age it took the filly only a few seconds to outrun her human friend. But Lilly wasn’t easy to catch. Whenever the filly came near her she dodged and zigzagged. The filly had to change course again and again, until it became too frustrating for her, and she stopped. There she stood, her angry whinny a declaration of defeat.

Lilly stopped, too. She turned and laughed a laugh of victory.

Ben laughed aloud, too. “Well done, Little Flower!” he called out to his daughter, and she waved at him. He gave a wave back. The little filly stepped towards her human friend. When she reached the girl, Lilly placed her hand on the filly’s withers and grasped her mane, and together they slowly walked on, side by side.

Ben cast a look at Miss Hargrove.

_That woman was looking serious again. She didn’t seem to take part in Lilly’s little triumph. Well, perhaps that was asking too much of her. After all, she had only just met the girl..._

_But still... why had she come here? What did she hope to gain from this visit? Was she thinking about building a life here, with him? Or had he misinterpreted her behaviour? Perhaps he had been wrong all along, and she wasn’t interested in him as he wanted to believe?_

Ben thought back on Miss Hargrove’s invitations and his visits to her house. He had always been able to read people easily, especially women. But with this woman he was at a loss. _Did he or did he not mean anything to her? For the sake of Lilly’s and his own future, he HAD to know._

“You know, ranch life is different from the life in town you are used to,” he began.

Calmly, Marguerite looked up at him.

_That face – like a doll’s. Those black curls framing it... and the white teeth she now bared._

_He wasn’t sure how to continue, so he looked away from her face and along her form. _Voluptuous. Soft and round – just like a woman should be. – No. He couldn’t concentrate while he was looking at her! And she didn’t relish his assessing look, either, he could see that.__

Again, he reminded himself that this woman wasn’t a whore. _Perhaps that was the reason he couldn’t read her. After all, what did he know about ladies, never having courted one? – Those dark eyes looked at him inquiringly... what was it she expected of him?_

“Could you imagine living here?”

“Here?” Marguerite echoed, a slight smile on her lips. _That was it. He would declare himself now._

“On the ranch. Become a farm woman instead of a teacher?”

“A farm woman?” Marguerite echoed, somewhat taken aback. _That was NOT what she wanted to be. But... ah... he didn’t know how to phrase that. And he didn’t know WHAT she meant the place and him to become once she was here..._

“It is not a ‘farm woman’ I want to become,” she dropped her cue.

 _No, most certainly not_ , Marguerite thought. _She wanted to be a rancher’s wife, rich enough to pay for servants so she would never have to clean her own dirty dishes again!_

 _Not a ‘farm woman’, eh?_ Ben smiled at that. _Then, perhaps, she’d rather become..._ In his mind’s eye he undressed her and placed her in his bed, her smile at him a guide to expand his imaginings.

At that moment, Lilly screeched – and laughed. Both adults turned and saw the little foal tear at her skirt while Lilly was trying to fend it off.

“Lilly – watch out!” Marguerite Hargrove exclaimed. “That animal will tear your skirt!”

But it was too late. The foal had ripped Lilly’s skirt with its teeth, and from the sudden shift Lilly fell on her bum. She roared angrily and scrambled up on her leg... but the foal had already turned and was running away. With a loud roar Lilly followed...

Ben laughed again. Watching Lilly with her favourite playmate – especially after she had been so ill only a few days ago – was like a cool rain after a long ride through a desert, and he revelled in her little triumph and the joy it gave her.

 

The remains of this thought were still in his eyes and in his smile when he turned to the woman beside him again. 

“How about a cup of coffee?” Ben suggested, and Marguerite smiled her ‘soft smile’ and tilted her head coyly to signal assent. They turned to return to the house – leaving Lilly behind.

Marguerite heaved an inaudible sigh. _Perhaps now the man would remember he had a guest and concentrate on her. After all, he hadn’t declared himself yet. And she couldn’t do anything without him saying the proper words._

 

 

 

 

 

 


	18. The all-important visit - Part 2

When they arrived at the yard she could see a wagon standing in it. A man stood beside it while two ranch hands were busy heaving horse muck onto the wagon with their forks.

Ben frowned. _What was Applegate doing here on a Sunday – uninvited?_

But a moment later he caught Tommy’s look at Miss Hargrove and understood. This was another one of Tommy’s schemes to ‘introduce’ the schoolteacher to their ‘dirty and tough life’.

_Roger Applegate was a farmer who cultivated vegetables. In autumn, he came over with his wagon to load up the horse dung that inevitably collected on Ben’s ranch and used it as fertilizer for his fields. In return for the fertilizer Ben received a small share of Applegate’s harvest. It was a profitable exchange for both of them._

“Howdy, Mr. Warner. Ma’am...” Applegate greeted Ben and the schoolteacher. Marguerite searched for her handkerchief and held it in front of her nose - offended by the pungent smell of the fresh dung.

“Tommy told me that you wanted me to collect the stuff today. Missus wasn’t happy – ‘not on a Sunday’, she said – but what do women know...? Oh, sorry,” Applegate corrected himself when he caught the indignant look Marguerite sent him and he busied himself with sorting the horses’ harness.

Ben sent a dark look towards Tommy, who looked back defiantly.

“Let’s get away from the smell,” Ben said to Marguerite and held out his arm for her to take, “I know a place you will like.”

She looked at him astonished and was rewarded with a soft smile.

 

He led her around and behind the house where there was a little garden full of apple trees. It was a romantic little place and had been the previous owner’s favourite spot on the ranch. Ben hadn’t thought too much of it when he had bought the ranch, but the trees were yielding a lot of apples, and they could be stored long into winter. They provided a welcome addition to the winter food which was mostly stew made with potatoes and some salted meats. Lilly loved standing under the trees, carefully searching for the reddest of all the apples, and then pointing out to her father which apple to pick for her.

Now Ben was doing just that. He stood and inspected the apples until he had found an especially ripe and juicy one. He picked it and handed it over to the woman beside him.

Miss Hargrove held the apple in her hand, hesitating.

Ben smiled. “You can safely eat it. It was the other way round, you know.”

She looked puzzled. “Excuse me?”

He smiled. “It was the _woman_ who gave the apple _to the man_ in order to tempt him...”

His smile grew wider at her blush.

Marguerite didn’t know what to do. His remark brought the Bible story of Adam and Eve to mind quite vividly. _If she bit into that apple, it would mean that..._

Her hesitation was proof enough for Ben how seriously she took his remark. _It was a good test,_ he suddenly realized. _If she were to bite into that apple... well, suffice it to say that Adam and Eve ended up getting to ‘know’ each other..._

From further off Marguerite Hargrove saw Tommy make his way to them. A slight panic took hold of her: _she must decide quickly... must make up her mind if she really wanted to... but she had already done that by coming here, hadn’t she?_

Afraid that Tommy might interfere with her plans, Marguerite took both a leap of faith and a hearty bite into the apple.

The apple was very ripe, and the juice ran along her chin. It was making her uncomfortable, adding to the strange feeling of lightheadedness that she experienced at that very moment.

She risked a peek up into Ben Warner’s face and she saw the smirk in it change into a tender smile.

 _The juice was almost dripping off her chin – she looked delicious!_ Ben’s hand came up just in time to catch the droplet and prevent it from descending into Marguerite Hargrove’s perfectly-laced décolletage.

 _His finger on her chin was so tender... perhaps he would tilt her head up to kiss her..._ At first, she was disappointed that he only caught the drop, but when Ben guided the wet finger to his mouth and licked the juicy drop off it, Marguerite felt a hot wave wash over her.

 

“Dad, have you shown Miss Hargrove our ‘treasure’?”

Tommy was still too young to make much of Ben’s gesture, but nevertheless... his father was standing way too close to the teacher for his taste. _He had to do something._

“Treasure?” Miss Hargrove echoed, not really interested.

Tommy spotted her indifference to his words and her slightly unnerving look up at his father and grew only more decisive. _H_ _e HAD to pry those two apart!_

“I’m sure Miss Hargrove would like to see the most valuable horse we have on the ranch, wouldn’t you, Miss Hargrove?”

_‘Valuable’, Tommy had said. And he seemed to be anxious to show her the animal. Could a horse really be worth much?_

“Why, yes, of course,” Marguerite said, not being able to tear her eyes away from Ben.

Ben broke their gaze. “ _Valuable_... what do you mean, Tommy?” he frowned.

“Our stallion,” Tommy said enthusiastically. “He’s over there in the barn, Miss Hargrove. He’s worth more than any other horse you can find in all of Nevada.  Let me show him to you,” he added and held out his arm in imitation of the gentleman-like behaviour Marguerite insisted the boys learn at school.

Ben didn’t like Tommy’s bragging. But the boy had a point. The stallion was, indeed, the best horse he had ever come upon.

Tommy’s behaviour confused and captivated Marguerite, and she reached for his arm. Tommy chose to ignore Ben’s frown and meant to lead his teacher towards the barn when Ben’s voice stopped him.

“Tommy... _I_ will show the stallion to Miss Hargrove.”

And when Tommy showed no sign of leaving he added, “You can go help the hands.”

Father and son exchanged a look, but Tommy knew that he stood no chance against Ben.

With mixed feelings, Tommy observed his father and his teacher vanish in the barn.

 

Ben held the door open for her to enter first. _Now, how about that? He WAS capable of acting like a gentleman!_ Satisfied, Marguerite sent Ben a benevolent smile to encourage such behaviour further. She knew from her experience with children that the children responded to such encouragement, too.

“The stallion is over there at the back of the stable.” Ben pointed into the corner. When they stepped closer, the stallion – smelling a strange perfume – stamped his feet and whinnied a warning.

Marguerite jumped in fear as the animal suddenly attacked the wall of the box which held him.

“Woah, boy!” Ben tried to calm the animal. Instinctively, he had grabbed the woman beside him and shoved her behind his back, shielding her from the stallion’s view with his own body. All of a sudden Marguerite felt very safe.

Again, the stallion whinnied angrily. Ben shook his head.

“It’s no use. Better go back over there.”

He pointed to a large wooden chest near the entry and Marguerite obeyed. Ben approached the stallion to calm him down and re-establish his superiority over the animal. _It would do them no good if the stallion learned that his behaviour could make people back away in fear! He HAD to make sure the stallion accepted him as leader._

Fascinated, Marguerite watched Ben handle the dangerous animal and the stallion bend under Ben’s will... at least that was what it looked like to her.

After long minutes during which Marguerite imagined herself in the stallion’s place, being lorded over by that black figure that spoke so softly – an image that made her body heat up and almost made her swoon – finally, the stallion responded to Ben’s gestures. But Ben knew that this obedience would be short-lived and that it was only a matter of time when the stallion would challenge his, Ben’s, lead again – and either kill him or be put down himself. _Pity. He was the best stallion he had ever seen. And he was a great sire. All his foals had brought in good money. But it simply wasn’t safe around him._

Ben knew that, ultimately, he would have to get rid of him.

“Is he really as precious as Tommy said?” Marguerite asked when Ben came to her after parting from the now calm animal with a soft pat.

“He's a real good one,” Ben answered her question. “Just a bit too wild – for a lady,” he added with a half-smile.

Marguerite gave him a coy smile back.

“Perhaps he could be tamed,” she said tentatively.

“Nah,” Ben shook his head, “not this one. Some stallions can’t be made pets.” The sparkle in his eyes that accompanied his words was unmistakable.

 _Did he speak of the stallion or of himself?_ Marguerite wasn’t sure. But she knew one thing and voiced it confidently: “Everybody can be made to behave civilised. It only takes the right way.”

_‘Behave civilised’._

Ben wondered what she meant by that. And whether she meant him.

_‘ _The right way’. Now, what way could she possibly have in mind to ‘civilise’ him?__

He decided to find out. “Do you remember what we talked about last time I saw you?” he asked, stepping closer. “Have you thought about it?”

That was exactly what Marguerite wanted. _If everything went according to plan he would get down on his knee and propose to her in the next quarter-hour._

As she had practised in front of her mirror for days she lowered her head and arranged her face into the beguiling expression that was meant to encourage him to declare himself. When she had achieved her aim she looked up. There was ‘encouragement’ written all over her face.

Decisively, Ben stepped close, his arm found its way around her waist, drawing her into his body, and his nose touched her hair. He smelled the perfume that had made the stallion aggressive. Marguerite felt the by now familiar dizziness grow at his closeness.

His mouth was at her ear when he said softly, “You sure you can love me enough to spend a lifetime at my side?”

His voice was soft and purring; it spoke of seduction. But his choice of words irritated her.

_'A lifetime’. Of course. After all, this was what all this was about. She would never accept anything less than vows being said in a church, a union that was sanctioned and would guarantee her a life in comfort._

She bent her head back to look at him, the feeling at his mastery over the stallion not entirely gone yet. “A lifetime,” she said, capable of little more than a whisper.

A soft look settled in Ben’s eyes and a tender smile graced his lips as he bent over her. His grip tightened, and his arms drew her closer into his embrace, so he could kiss her.

She didn’t know what to do. Instead of stepping back and going down on his knee he continued to hold her. _Had he not understood that her answer meant she would accept his proposal? What was he waiting for?_

Marguerite tried to twist in his grip to be able to bend her head back and speak to him when his lips found hers.

 _She had almost knocked her head against his teeth. Was it that she was scared of him, or was she only inexperienced?_ For the time being Ben didn’t dare do more and concentrated on the kiss. But then he felt her body go soft and her lips respond.

The feeling was like nothing she had ever felt before. _She hadn’t known he could make her feel that way... The way his mouth engulfed hers, the way he moved his lips... it was as if he was eating her... feeding on her..._

Ben felt her respond. _Finally. Wasn’t so easy with her. For a moment it felt as though she meant to get away, but she finally seemed to have caught on._

Ben had never made love to a lady before, and he wasn’t sure he should push her further than a kiss, but then he felt her body go soft and move a little into his embrace. _So she was ready for more._

The woman in his arms was well endowed, just like he loved his women. He was sorely tempted to let go of her lips and feed on her breasts instead. _But that was bound to be too much._

He was pretty sure she didn’t want to get laid in the barn. _And yet... the way she responded to his kiss told its own story. And damn... she was delicious._

Unable – and not quite willing – to restrain himself further his hand left her waist and moved south. The frock she wore was a summer frock and too flimsy for the season, but it was to his advantage. His hand stroked over and then grasped a round and firm buttock.

_Why did he keep kissing her? Didn’t he want to propose?_

The kiss turned deeper and more demanding. Marguerite could feel something at her lips. It took a while for her to realize that it was his tongue and that it sought entrance. _Entrance into her mouth!_

A panic grew in her. And then she felt his hand grab her behind.

_How could he dare touch her like that? This was a barn, they weren’t married, she hadn’t even given her consent to be kissed, something that should have come AFTER his proposal to show they were fiancés._

_Suddenly, Marguerite knew one thing: this man was dangerous!_

_He meant to rape her! He meant to dishonour her and make her unmarriageable! Her mother had been right to warn her never – ever! – to be alone with a man!_

In her panic she gave a strangled squeal, and she used whatever strength she had to free herself from his embrace.

Feeling that something was wrong, Ben let her go and searched her face. It was flushed and hot.

“NO!” she screamed at him.

He didn’t understand. _What was wrong?_

“No. Oh, dear Lord in Heaven... no. I can’t do this!”

Ben could see it in her face. The touch had been too much. _He had to stop her, had to calm her..._

“Wait...”

But in his astonishment at the sudden change in her he was too slow to react. She had turned away from him and stumbled to the barn door. Opening it with shaking hands, she ran outside.

Out in the sunshine Marguerite took a deep breath. _T_ _his was NOT how she had imagined her visit to be. She couldn’t, simply COULDN’T give herself to a lewd man like Ben Warner, not even for the sake of not having to work for her keep any longer._

 

When Ben stepped outside Marguerite screeched at him “How dare you touch me! Me – a lady!”

The ranch hands stopped whatever they were doing to watch what was happening.

John Smith saw Ben raise his chin at the schoolteacher’s words. But it wasn’t an aggressive gesture. John could see how deeply his boss was hurt. But the lady wasn’t finished yet, and Ben’s fists clenched in an attempt to control himself.

Marguerite’s disgust at his touch and her sudden fear – but also her shame at the undeniable arousal she had felt in his arms - added to her offense. “You are lewd... lewd! That’s what you are!”

Having hurled her worst possible term at Ben Warner, Marguerite turned away and started sobbing.

Ben’s gaze swept over the people present. The hands had gathered, discreetly lingering about their jobs in order to witness what was happening. Further off, Tommy crossed his arms with a wide smirk and took a stance of victory.

John Smith saw Tommy, too, and had to suppress his own smile. He, too, was glad about the outcome.

 

“I want to go home,” Miss Hargrove snivelled. “Have someone take me to my house.”

“I’ll take you myself,” Ben said softly. A nod towards his foreman sufficed, and John fetched two horses while Ben went to get the harness. Together they proceeded to harness the horses.

“I’m glad she doesn’t think she can play the teacher here with us,” John remarked, avoiding Ben’s eyes.

Astonished, Ben stopped what he was doing and looked at his foreman. It wasn’t like John to make remarks of such a personal nature. John busied himself with the harness, but knew he couldn’t escape his boss’ close observation. And indeed, Ben was waiting for him to look up and face him over what he had said.

“The Little One’s had enough trouble with women telling her what to do,” John offered a lame explanation.

Ben smiled and nodded. _He was right. But this wasn’t only about Lilly._

“Yeah, John. But I thought I might have a warm bed from now on.”

This time it was Ben who occupied himself with the straightening of the harness, avoiding his foreman’s gaze. At first shocked by Ben’s words, John nodded thoughtfully. _Aye, he had a point. Wasn’t easy for a man to raise two children all by himself. Wasn’t easy for a man to be alone all the time._

As Marguerite Hargrove and Ben drove off in the wagon John mused about Ben’s words. He had never contemplated his boss might be lonely.

 

The Horseshoe Ranch was the only ranch around that didn’t have a woman. The ranch hands loved it. That way they could behave however they wanted. As long as the work was done properly, Ben Warner was the most generous of employers. He might be lonely, but John knew that it would have been disastrous to have a woman like the schoolteacher on their ranch. As he observed the two figures sitting on the wagon slowly vanishing in the distance, John was sure of one thing: He was glad he wasn’t in Ben Warner’s shoes right now.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	19. Not good enough

In order to mask her embarrassment and not be compelled to talk to him, Marguerite kept snivelling into her handkerchief while Ben’s thoughts ran at full speed trying to find a way to placate her.

_He shouldn’t have touched her in the barn. The barn was HIS territory, she was bound to feel insecure in such a place. But the way she had behaved before..._

He closed his eyes, momentarily angry at his futile attempt – another one – to read this particular woman.

_Where exactly had he gone wrong? What was it that she had expected of him that he had failed to do? Or failed to say? – Was there a way to make her understand that he was sorry? She had obviously been interested in him – her repeated attempts to meet him proved it. With enough patience on his part, could they still build up something out of their disastrous encounters that was worthwhile?_

_But how much patience would he have to show? And what if along the way he behaved too rashly again? Or uttered a wrong word? Was it really worth to bend over backwards for her, for a chance to...?_

_No. It was better to end it here. Let it be over. - Now, how to make her understand?_

 

“You know,” he started, “if my touch is so distasteful to you, then it’s better we leave it be.”

She sat like a statue and didn’t react to his words, but Ben was sure she was listening intently; her sobs had stopped and she seemed to be holding her breath.

“Beautiful woman like you,” he continued, “if you were my wife, I would want to... _touch_ you often, very often.” He turned and looked at her, trying to make a point. “Every day.”

She looked at him with big eyes.

 _He had seen those fearful eyes before,_ he realized. _Rachel had looked at him like that when she didn’t want his attentions but had been too scared to say no._

A wave of humiliation welled up in Ben. There weren’t many ways he could be made to feel like dirt, but this was one of them.

 

For a moment his eyes grew hard as the ingrained defense mechanism of evading pain with anger wanted to set in. But then he consciously took a deep breath, and the pain and anger evaporated. Instead, another feeling washed over him: regret. And he realized that there was no point in becoming angry. It wouldn’t change the attitude of the woman beside him.

He thought back to the past and to other occasions when he hadn’t been good enough for a woman. There had been the saloon girl he had bedded in Bisbee, Emma.

_He had offered her the chance to accompany him to Mexico and to sing again, something he knew she wanted to do. But obviously not in his company. At the time he had thought that she was afraid to be seen in the company of an outlaw, although in Mexico he would have been free from pursuit by the law. But later on, he believed that it was because he was not good enough for a good woman to stay at his side._

_There had been another occasion... when he had already been building up his ranch... He was a respectable rancher in the eyes of the townspeople, and he had met a woman... Jenny. But although he had offered her to stay on his ranch, she, too, had left._

That particular memory threatened to wash over him and unbalance him when – to his immense relief and distraction – they reached Miss Hargrove’s house. He stopped the wagon in front of it and walked to the teacher’s side to help her climb off.

 

He looked at her seriously before he reached out to grip her waist to help her down.

Marguerite hesitated.

 _Of course not. He wouldn’t hold out his hand so she could place her hand in his like a lady was bound to do. Instead, his action took away her freedom of movement so that the only chance remaining for her was to jump to the ground in front of him! And his big hands would touch her around the middle... would touch her for the last time,_ Marguerite suddenly realized.

Shaking off a sudden wave of regret, Marguerite almost threw herself off the wagon. But Ben’s grip was sure and steady. When his hands didn’t leave her waist, Marguerite looked up into his eyes. They were serious. He was waiting for something.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

His smile was tinged with sadness as he cocked his head and his finger touched the rim of his hat in his usual way.

“Goodbye, Miss Hargrove,” he said, and she fled into the house.

After the door had slammed shut he didn’t leave immediately but proceeded to check the tack on the horses, patting them for several minutes. But Marguerite Hargrove didn’t return. And so he climbed on the wagon to drive home.

 

 

When Ben passed the sheriff’s office on his way back to the ranch, Sheriff Davis was outside talking to his deputy. Ben stopped in front of them.

“Sheriff,” he greeted Davis with a nod.

“Mr. Warner. Something wrong?”

For a moment Ben hesitated. _Should he tell the sheriff about the open gates and the stolen foals? Nah. He better took care of this himself._

Ben shook his head. “The dead girl. You find out anything? Know who killed her?”

But the sheriff shook his head. “No. I don’t think we’ll ever find him. Nobody has seen or heard anything. Maybe it was a stranger, somebody she knew from before she came to Indian Springs.”

Ben nodded wistfully. _Yeah. Without witnesses, the killer would probably never be found._

 

 

As Ben guided the wagon back to the ranch he thought about his situation. _W_ _ith Miss Hargrove no longer interested in him, any chance of finding a mother for his Little Flower was gone. There just wasn’t any woman in town he could think of who was both suitable to take care of Lilly and was interested in him as well. Tommy would be happy._

He chuckled mirthlessly at this thought and realised that what he had told John had been true. Amidst all the flattering attention that Miss Hargrove’s approaches had meant, somewhere he had harboured the hope of no longer having to sleep in a cold bed. _Oh well... that couldn’t be helped. There were always the saloon girls for a bit of entertainment. Short-lived, alas, but available nevertheless. – Had he really believed that simply by playing the role of respectable rancher he would become a suitable match, a man worthy of having a good woman at his side?_

 

 

 

 

 


	20. Danger confronted and disarmed

As he came closer to his home Ben sensed a change he couldn’t quite name. A strange restlessness grew in him. He urged the horses on with a click of his tongue. And then he smelled smoke in the air!

His eyes travelled ahead. The smoke was coming from the ranch. And worse, it came from the direction of the house! He urged the horses on with the whip. At neck-breaking speed the wagon rushed on until it reached the ranch yard.

Ben looked towards the house. It had burned at the corner where Tommy’s bedroom was – but there wasn’t much harm done. The fire must have been been put out quickly. He saw Tommy standing in the yard among the ranch hands. They were assembled to the last man. Some of them were still holding buckets in their hands.

When they heard Ben arrive with the wagon they all turned, and Ben could see that the men had clustered around his foreman John, who held a man in his grip. John hadn’t noticed Ben’s arrival. He was punching the man lying on the ground.

 

“Why?” Ben could hear him shout as he jumped off the wagon and ran over. And then he recognised the man in John’s grip. It was Josiah Fairbanks!

Quickly, Ben was taking stock. _It wasn’t like John to lose control like that and punch a man blindly. What had Fairbanks done? And... WHERE WAS LILLY?_

Ben’s hand gripped painfully into John’s shoulder.

“Lilly...?”

John saw Ben’s panic but shook his head.

“Don’t worry. The Little One is all right. She’s in the barn. Matt is watching her.” He let go of Fairbanks and stood up straight. “Nobody got hurt, boss. Tommy was outside, too.”

Ben turned to Tommy, whom he had already seen and who had stepped up to them, and father and son exchanged a look. _The boy looked all right._

 

Ben sent a relieved look towards the barn, then he nodded towards Fairbanks. “What about him?”

“Caught him stealing himself away after he had set fire to the house,” John explained.

Ben took another step towards Fairbanks, who still crouched down as a result of John’s punches. Ben bent down, his hands slowly gripped into Fairbanks’ shirt and jacket, and he heaved the man up, lifting him until he was eye to eye with him. Then he gave him a hard push, jostling his back hard against the corral’s railings.

The man cringed but didn’t howl out. He was too scared of what he saw in Ben’s eyes.

“Why?” Ben asked, his voice husky with scarcely controlled anger. “Why me? Why my ranch? My house?”

“ _Your_ ranch! _Your_ house! _Your_ money!” Fairbanks suddenly yelled at him. “You’ve got it all, haven’t you?  You can buy anything you want, get any woman you want!”

His outburst had made him move a step away from the fence. Again, Ben threw him back forcefully. “What’s it to you?” he asked suspiciously.

“You can’t have her!” Fairbanks yelled, a savage hatred in his voice that made Ben perk up.

“ _Her?_ ” he asked. “Who?”

“She's too good for you. She's a lady. You... you go to every whore in town! How dare you court a lady like Miss Hargrove?”

 

The ranch hands shifted uneasily, throwing glances at Ben Warner, scared of what their boss might do to Fairbanks.

Ben was confused by Fairbanks’ logic. After all, everyone saw the saloon girls, and it was known that Fairbanks, too, was not averse to paying for their services.

“You don’t love her the way I love her!” Fairbanks suddenly yelled at Ben before breaking down. In front of everyone he sunk to the ground and started weeping.

“She ain’t for you, she's mine,” he mumbled over and over, his tears and snot adding to his bleeding nose, mixing with the dust and sweat on his face.

The men around him grew ill at ease. A crying and snivelling man was detestable. But most of them had witnessed Miss Hargrove accuse Ben this very day. And they also knew their boss and his reputation with women. As a matter of fact, some of the men had found out that convincing a saloon girl to take their money was difficult when Ben Warner was around and within reach. Without acknowledging it to themselves, they pitied Fairbanks and his situation.

“Don’t be lulled in by his words,” John said with a dark look to Ben. “There’s more.”

“What?”

 

“This.” John led Ben to the burnt timbers of what had once been Tommy’s bedroom. The fire had burned the wall, and part of the interior was eaten away, destroyed by fire and, also, by the water that had quenched it. Outside the walls on the ground Ben could see a packet of matches, an empty bottle of whisky, a knife and the remains of some cloth that had been cut apart.

“Placed orderly in a row – just like the nails of the meadow’s rails,” John remarked. Ben’s look turned as dark as John’s.

“He’ll tell us,” was all he said.

With a harsh bark and a savage look Ben ordered Tommy to join Lilly in the barn. For once, Tommy obeyed without arguing.

Ben waited until the barn door had closed behind him, then he turned to Fairbanks. “This can be easy for you or hard. Your choice.”

Scared, Fairbanks looked into Ben Warner’s eyes. They were as cold as stone.

John had fetched a lasso. He looked at Ben, awaiting his command.

“Spill your guts,” Ben said to Fairbanks, his voice still calm, the suppressed anger only barely audible. “I want to know who else is in. And I want to know everything you’ve done.”

Fairbanks started shivering.

 

Some of the hands clenched their fists in nervous anticipation. They understood Ben’s need to know about the fire, but they weren’t sure they wanted to be witness to a hanging.

“John...” Ben’s voice came calmly, and like a coiled snake that had been waiting for its prey to make a move, John’s right fist found its way into Fairbanks’ stomach.

Fairbanks groaned, fell and retched. A derogatory chuckle came from John. “That one won’t last long, boss,” he remarked.

“Get him up!” Ben ordered, and John hauled Fairbanks up on his feet.

“Well?” Ben asked. “You gonna answer now? Who else is in?”

Fairbanks’ look at Ben was blank, as if he hadn’t heard the question. He didn’t answer. Again, John’s fist hit him hard – this time in his face.

He yelled and fell again – he wasn’t used to such treatment. In order to avoid another attack he remained lying on the ground. John shook his head at the man’s stupidity. Questioningly, he looked at Ben who gave another nod, and John’s boot kicked the man’s kidney.

Fairbanks gave a yell.

Ben’s voice was calm, almost purring. “Who else? What have you done? And what do you still plan to do? I want to know...” A gesture of Ben’s made John spring to attack again. After another kick into his stomach and a punch in his face, Ben halted John. Bleeding, Fairbanks lay in the dust. He had pissed and shit himself in fear.

 

“Enough,” Ben said to John, “he’s mine now,” and John stepped back.

When Ben approached and Fairbanks looked into his eyes he didn’t wait for Ben to ask or do anything.

“Burns!” he yelled at Ben. “The hotel owner is in. He got the money for the horses. Not me!”

_So Burns got the money, just as he had suspected since his night visit to him. But why was Fairbanks in? What had he gained from it? He didn’t give the impression of a professional criminal with his lack of guts and his obvious fear._

“If Burns took the horses what was your job? What did _you_ get out of it?” Ben asked Fairbanks.

For a moment the man was silent, but then he rose on unsteady legs. For the first time he adopted a self-assured stance. Wincing with the pain he was in, he looked Ben steadily in the eye. “I did it for love.”

Ben’s eyes became slits as he tried to understand the implications.

“She doesn’t want me as long as you are around,” Fairbanks added. “I tried. She wouldn’t even let me take her to a picnic. But she came to your ranch. – What did you promise her to make her come?” he asked, his disdained love and the increasing pain making him weepy.

 _He must mean Miss Hargrove._ Ben frowned, not sure if he was right. _For some reason Fairbanks believed that by removing him, Ben, as a rival he could win over the schoolteacher._

“I didn’t promise her anything,” Ben said seriously. “Miss Hargrove wanted to be mistress of this ranch. But then she decided I wasn’t good enough for her.”

 

At the mention of Marguerite Hargrove and the scene they had witnessed that day, the hands shifted uncomfortably on their feet. Ben remained silent. As was his habit, he waited Fairbanks out. He was sure that he was to learn more from silence than renewed prodding.

And he was right. After the snivelling, Fairbanks’s feelings turned to anger and hatred.

“Women! You can’t trust them!” he barked at the ranch hands around him. “First they seem to be your friend, and then they blackmail you!”

“What do you mean?” Ben’s eyes became slits again and he cocked his head. _What was the man getting at? Why should Miss Hargrove ‘blackmail’ Fairbanks? And how could she?_

“I didn’t want her to die! She fell when I hit her and smashed her head! If she hadn’t blackmailed me none, she wouldn’t have died!” Fairbanks shouted in defence.

“‘Smashed her head’?” Ben echoed slowly. _What was the man talking about?_

“She overheard Burns and me talk that night. She knew about our plan, and she said she would tell the sheriff! If she hadn’t blackmailed me, nothing would have happened to her!”

“‘ _She’_?” Ben echoed again. “You talking about Julie?”

_Of course! That had to be it. Juliet had been seen leaving the saloon with Fairbanks. That same night, he, Ben, had visited Burns. Obviously his visit had scared Burns enough to run over to Fairbanks and stop whatever the two of them had been planning. And Juliet had been with Fairbanks, listening to their conversation._

 

Ben looked at Fairbanks. From the way Fairbanks started shivering he understood the mistake he had just made by telling the story. _For this he would hang!_

Granted, Juliet had only been a whore, but there were enough ranch hands around who had known and liked her. And they would never let the matter rest.   

As if in answer to Ben’s thoughts, John’s fist clenched into the man’s collar. His face was black with rage. There was no telling what he might do.

“Let him go, John,” Ben said so quietly, his foreman shuddered involuntarily. Immediately, John dropped his hand from Fairbanks’ collar.

“I’ve known Julie personally...” Ben’s voice was so calm even Fairbanks was fooled for a moment. But only until Ben’s hand slowly grasped the collar John had dropped a moment ago. With his second hand he drew his gun, and held it in front of Fairbanks’ face, cocking the trigger.

He looked at Fairbanks and saw the terror in the man’s eyes. _Fairbanks knew that he would die. And it wouldn’t be a big deal either. Everybody had heard how Fairbanks had confessed to having killed Juliet. Nobody cared about someone like him being lynched._

 

“What are we gonna do with him now, boss?”

John’s voice was so soft, Ben hesitated a moment. _John could see what he wanted to do. Why the question? Was there something John wanted to tell him?_

Ben knew John too well not to spot the tense shoulders and the worry behind his calm look. _John didn’t care about Fairbanks. It must be something else._

John was, indeed, worried about what Ben might do to Fairbanks – a man he didn’t value one bit, a man who certainly deserved death. But John also knew that he couldn’t stop his boss once his mind was made up.

The ranch hands grew impatient. Their mood had changed completely. After Fairbanks’ confession of murder, they longed to get their hands on him. Some clenched their fists in anticipation, some shifted on their feet.

Anger welled up in Ben. _The man in front of him had stolen his foals and set fire to his house. What more did he need? The pitiful creature was no better than dozens of people he had killed for lesser reasons over the years._

But Ben Wade was a man who never killed in cold blood, and so he let his anger subside and reason take over.

_Killing was too final a thing to do lightly. One killed to survive, or to get an advantage in a difficult situation, or to intimidate others. But it needed to be done right, so that no one could bear a grudge and shoot you in the back at the first chance they got. – The man in front of him was trash. His life – or any perceived value of it – did not enter into the reckoning. What he had to determine was what was ultimately better for himself, pulling the trigger or not._

Ben took a deep breath. The sunshine seemed brighter all of a sudden, and he could feel a light breeze on his face. From the nearby paddock he heard the sounds of horses drinking from the water trough. Further off a horse whinnied, and suddenly the whole herd raised their heads and stampeded to the end of the field. _Must have smelled the last of the burnt wood on the wind and got scared,_ Ben thought, taking in deeply the sounds from the space around him that he called home.

“We should kill him,” Jason said, answering John’s question.

The other hands nodded and murmured affirmatively.

“Juliet was a sweet girl. He’s got to pay for it.”

“Aye.”   “Yes.”   “Let’s hang the bastard!”

The men approached, encroaching on Fairbanks, almost pushing Ben and John out of their way.

Fairbanks got really scared now.

“You’re not gonna kill me because of a mere girl?” he shrieked in his fear and tried to find a way to escape the men coming closer and closer.

 

Ben had meant to step aside and let the men do what they wanted to do, but the word ‘girl’ triggered the image of Lilly in him and it changed everything.

_What if, in years to come, Lilly would learn that her father had killed the man in cold blood? Or allowed that he be killed on his ground? What would she think of him then? ‘Her father – the killer!’ NO! This was something he never wanted Lilly to know. He didn’t want her touched by his past, by what he had to go through to simply survive to adulthood, by what he had done to stay alive on the prairie in the company of killers, by the way he had lived most years of his life. She only knew him as he was now, and if he could help it she would never learn how long and hard the way had been from outlaw to honest rancher. – No. No matter how much he would like to see Fairbanks dead, he couldn’t let the hands kill the man._

“Stop it.”

The simple phrase stopped them all short. They turned to see what Ben had in mind.

“John – get some rope to bind him. We’ll take him to the sheriff.”

While John complied the ranch hands got angry.

“Why, boss?” Jason asked, shifting his aggressive stance from Fairbanks to Ben.

“Because I say so.” Ben sent a decisive glance toward Jason, who folded immediately.

 

John came back, carrying some ropes and, with the help of two hands, proceeded to bind Fairbanks.

Ben’s look swept over the rest of the men. Nobody uttered a word. Their looks said it clearly. They might not like it, but he was boss, and his word was law.

“It’s the right thing to do,” Ben said calmly, closing the lid on any possible defiance. “Let the law deal with him.”

He looked at his foreman. “You take him there yourself, John, you hear?”

John nodded. “What am I gonna tell the sheriff?” he asked Ben.

“Tell him about the thefts and the fire, tell him about the murder, and then let the sheriff do his job,” Ben said. With a last look at Fairbanks, who had been thrown into the wagon by the two hands, he turned towards the barn.

John watched him go, for a moment pondering the huge step that lay between killing and secretly burying Frank Dalton and handing Josiah Fairbanks, a confessed murderer, over to the law.

But as he saw Ben emerge from the barn with Lilly in his arms, the two of them hugging each other fiercely, he understood. _Ben Warner would not risk hurting or killing someone, no matter how guilty, if this deed could jeopardize what was most important to him._

And looking at both his boss and the little pumpkin John saw plainly where Ben’s priorities lay. And it was where his, John’s, priorities lay, too.

 

 

When John had left the rest of the men set about clearing the yard and getting everything back in order while Ben went into the undamaged kitchen to pour himself a whisky.

While Tommy inspected his room Lilly ran around in the ranch yard observing the men at work.

Ben stood in the doorframe. He downed his whisky, enjoying the burn in his throat. His eye caught Lilly. At five years old, she was the only one who was blissfully ignorant of people’s pain and tribulations.

_Was it really worth risking the harmony they had on the ranch by inviting a woman – any woman – to live with them? No._

Ben observed Lilly as she tugged at Matt’s pants. Matt heaved her up and sat her on his shoulders. Ben smiled when her girlish giggle reached him.

_Life was good the way it was. And it was best to bring up both Lilly and Tommy without the influence and ‘help’ of a woman. There simply was no woman in town who did fit the bill of both wife AND mother._

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
